


The Vow

by fanwork12345



Series: What could have been . . . [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Rhaegar Won, Anti Rhaegar, Bittersweet, Dreams, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Mentions of Death and Violence, Mentions of Rape, Mentions of incest, Minor Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister, Minor Lyanna Stark/Rhaegar Targaryen, anti-Rhaegar, big deal in this, both very minor, brief but still if that's a trigger than please bear that in mind, brienne POV on the promise but there's original content too, canon typical attitudes and behaviour, i am a terrible tagger, jaime and elia friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:20:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26034088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanwork12345/pseuds/fanwork12345
Summary: Brienne thinks she's following her dream when she goes to serve Lord Renly at Stormsend but then she meets the kingslayer and he offers her a unique opportunity that will change her life forever. .
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Series: What could have been . . . [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1724029
Comments: 10
Kudos: 42





	1. The First meeting

She was where she wanted to be.

Or at least where she thought she wanted to be. Serving Lord Renly was everything she had thought she wanted. It was like some sort of dream. Convincing her father had been difficult. He was obviously concerned about her leaving the only home she had ever known to go and serve the young Lord. _It had been for him too though_. That’s what she reminded herself when her Father had pushed back gently. She had never forgotten his expression after she had won her fight against Wagastaff. He had given leave for the fight after warning his castellean it wasn’t a good idea. Her father had tried to convince the betrothed pair separately to back out of it. Perhaps he could already see the tenuous betrothal already threatening to implode. “He wants me to give up the sword Father.” Brienne had protested. “Please.” She had been sixteen and desperate. Many fathers she knew would have refused her but he had sighed and hugged her.

Brienne’s victory should have been sweet. Wagastaff was sixty but still pretty skilled. He wasn’t particularly stupid or a cruel man but Brienne hated how small he made her feel. How sure he had been that she would just give the sword up. As if it was that simple. Fighting was the one thing she excelled at, where her size didn’t constrain her but gave her advantage. It made her happy. She was willing to marry him; she knew a loveless marriage was to be expected but to give this up too? She had given up on the idea of anyone loving her or marrying her because they cared about her, why should she have to give this up to? When she had vanquished him as she had beaten so many others she turned to look to her father on that warm afternoon. He had smiled at her but his eyes couldn’t lie. Wagastaff couldn’t bear the humiliation and broke of the betrothal, breaking his word. Deep down a part of her had known he would. And she had forced his hand anyway. Her Father never said a word but he didn’t bring up betrothals again. He had given up. Was there any curse worse than an ugly daughter? _His only heir._

If only her Father would marry again, she couldn’t remember what her mother looked like so it would in her eyes be no betrayal. It would free her from this burden too, she thought selfishly. She knew he had women so why couldn’t he just marry one and get himself a new heir? One that could fulfil the role properly. A son who could fight for him or a fair daughter who could marry and be a proper wife and mother. So she had pleaded for a chance to go and serve Lord Renly the only man who had shown her chivalry and kindness This could be her chance to live as closest as she could to a knight. Her Father’s face when she had left had made her want to crumble but she had to be strong. With her gone, perhaps he would realise the truth they were both tip toeing around: that she was no worthy heir or daughter.

She spent moons writing to her Father, telling him of Lord Renly’s kindness and the Baratheon’s hospitality. Stormsend was very different to the quiet Tarth especially as Lord Robert was fond of entertaining. Truthfully Brienne didn’t really like his extravagant parties that usually ended in drunkenness and debauchery. Lord Renly never disgraced himself like his brother preferring to sip wine and just dance with lovely ladies. Brienne would watch from the side lines and remember that time he had danced with her seemingly so long ago. It was less exciting being a sworn sword than she had imagined. The men mostly treated her with derision, she had been foolish to think a title would protect her. Lord Renly was nice to her but there was this distance between them. She was not an idiot, she knew her feelings would never be reciprocated but she had hoped to become his confidante, someone he trusted implicitly. As time passed she felt a sense of weariness creep over her that she was careful not to put in her letters. It was a weird kind of frustration which especially manifested in her fighting, the only release she had making her an even less desirable opponent. It was wrong to feel this way, even ungrateful she thought but it didn't make the feeling go away.

One day Inchfield who had shown up to try and gain favour challenged her mockingly and she felt a deep thrill of pleasure of being able to pay back his contribution to that stupid bets moons ago at that tourney. “When I win, I’ll be generous and give you a kiss.” He told her gallantly and bowed as if she was a Lady. She enjoyed beating him into a pulp and he left red faced and angry. The frustration faded as she knew she had made another enemy in a place she was not well liked. "Good day, I don't appear to know you, what is your name?" someone asked her. She turned and saw Lord Lannister or as most would say the Kingslayer. Brienne wanted to run away as she often did when approached unexpectedly. She had avoided him so far as she tried to avoid most of the Lords and Ladies. She had no place with them. She removed her helm.

"Good gods, you're a woman." It still stung. The rational part of herself pointed out that she should expect this. Her appearance didn't change so why would the mocking?

"Good day, my lord." She said with as much dignity as she could manage even though she could feel herself flushing. Septa Roelle had told her it made her look like a tomato.

"No wait. Are you Lord Renly's. . protector?"

"I have the honour." she answered, looking around to see if she could make an escape.

"Not much honour in that." he joked smugly.

"What would you know of honour?" she snapped without thinking. How dare he mock her position? And Lord Renly who had treated this unwanted guest so courteously? No-one seemed to want him here apart from his sister whose smile made Brienne feel like she was being doused in ice. The realisation of what she had just said to one of the most powerful men in the realm hit her like a swift punch. People said he showed no mercy.

"Fight me." he said simply.

"My lord. . for/" This couldn’t happen.

"No, don't ask me to forgive you. You meant it. Not so many people would be so brave or so stupid to say it directly to my face. Fight me. You actually have some skill surprisingly. Inchfield isn't worth your time; let’s see if you're worth mine." That took her by surprise. It was so blunt and upfront. He looked at her in challenge.

"Very well." They would fight and this interaction would end.

So it began.

It was quite unlike any fight she had experienced. He had been watching her, she realised. She had never seen him fight before. She had heard he was good, one of the best ever. How could he not be? The youngest Kingsguard ever? It filled her with envious rage. She would have given almost anything for such a glorious destiny and he had ruined it. It wasn’t as if he had a mediocre soldier, dressing himself up in grandeur. He had destroyed it, soiled his white cloak with the King’s own blood. She parried with him, hoping to tire him out but he had either seen her use it on Inchfield or he was too clever to see through Goodwin’s tactic. She began to put more of her strength into it. He was excellent. Miles better than Inchfield. Better than Goodwin who she had trained against. Better than her father. Better than the few knights who had deigned to practice with her or who wanted to show her up. How could she win? He was smiling at her. No, smirking was a more appropriate word. She felt herself go redder and redder.

"Well, you better tell me your name." he said as he dusted his clothes after his triumph. "Come on, a Lady must tell a man her name once they have danced, it is the rules."

"We did not dance." She didn’t understand what he was talking about. She didn’t understand what he wanted from her. He had won. Made her pay for speaking out of turn. Bested the beast.

"Yes we did. Of course we did. Come on, you felt it. It was more than a fight, than a game." he reached out his hands and she flinched away from him warily. "You know you can learn from a defeat too as much as a win." he said brightly with a mocking smile. She wanted to slap him.

"Don't mock me." she said instead, shutting herself down so he couldn’t get any further reaction from her and began to walk away.

"It's true woman, what, don't glare at me? If you won't tell me your name, how should I address you, my lady? You are nobly born aren't you? Yes a lady but you don't act like one. Wench, perhaps? Yes wench. Well you see, wench, when you are defeated, wench, you can actually learn from that experience, wench and well obviously I have never experienced such a loss wen/" She couldn’t take it anymore. How dare he?

“Brienne. My name is Brienne."

"Well Brienne, same time tomorrow?" She looked at him, caught off guard but he seemed sincere?

"No, what. . why are you doing this?" She backed away from him. He couldn’t want to do this again. This was some kind of game, one she didn’t understand the cruel sting to yet.

"Wench do you wish to fight or not? Or dance I suppose. I'm guessing you don't get asked to do the regular sort of dancing often." There it was, the sharp sting of the insult. He wanted to degrade her. She remembered what Goodwin said. How she couldn’t back down, couldn't show weakness.

"Fine."

She regretted it later that night. Brienne fell asleep worrying about it. She hadn’t told Renly yet. She should never have agreed to this. Brienne thought of all the stories she had heard about him. From her father, from knights and ladies and even Old Sam the garrulous drunk at Tarth’s best inn. He didn't look like a monster but he had done something monstrous. But she had said she would. The next day he was waiting for her and she saw surprise light in his eyes. It was the shock that her word was worth something that made her rage flicker. The taunts that came out his mouth were less barbed but they fed the flickering fury inside her, This time she threw all of her energy into it. It ended with her on top of him and he laughed out loud. She rolled off him and glared at him. Why did he seem to laugh at everything? It was as if he was his personal walking talking joke.

"Same time again tomorrow, wench?"

"You. . you want to do this again?" she asked, a little startled. She had beaten him. Men didn’t usually asked her for rematches. _They fought her to prove they were better_. That she could never be better than them.

"Of course, don't you?" he asked her quite nonchalantly as if it was the most natural thing in the world. A big part of her to her surprise wanted her too. He was the best she had ever fought. She had probably learnt more and received better training in these two fights alone than all the rest of the few matches she had been allowed to compete in once she arrived in. He may be mocking but he took her skill seriously, pushing and challenging her.

"Address me correctly. No wench. Ask me to come here." She wondered if he was capable of being respectful.

He grabbed her hand and looked at her mock solemnly. "My Lady, please do me the honour/" she snatched her hand away and stormed off.

But she came back. Again and again they both did. She didn’t write to her Father about it.

Moons past and the routines became entrenched. Brienne learned more than she could ever have hoped. If the price was to put up with his annoying chatter then so be it. His cruel insults were less common over time and if the sharp mocking tone of his conversation never quite dulled it didn’t stop the strange high she had fighting him. Lord Renly was quite amused about it but he supported her efforts to improve her fighting. Eventually he would go back to Casterly Rock and these sessions would stop. She had heard he rarely left it, only came to visit his sister as he had become reclusive since the end of the war. They were quite close she had observed even before she and the Kingslayer had met. They looked very alike, both golden and beautiful. His sister she knew found her a grotesque joke but they never spoke of her. Especially after she caught them hugging. There was nothing strange or wrong about them hugging in a darkened corridor she told herself. Her imagination was running away with her. In fact although he was definitely annoying he wasn't the person she had expected. He had faults but he wasn't inhuman or a savage lion in human skin as Old Sam had once said in a drunken hushed whisper to frighten the young children. It didn't matter that their fights were becoming the highlight of her day she told herself as soon he would go back home. Brienne wrote to her Father briefly about Ser Jaime’s instructions on sword fighting. It was impossible to put into words their fighting but she hoped her Father would understand the value of learning from him. She knew that was a false hope.

One night she was awoken by a page to a big event. Lord Renly had come back a few weeks ago from Highgarden and had spoken of a group of bandits that were terrorising the Stromlands. It seemed that they had taken Lord Beric Dondarrion and his betrothed the Lady Allyria Dayne hostage. A party was being sent from Stormsend to answer such a crime and she was to be part of it. After she sent the page away she splashed her face with water to make sure she was awake. Her first quest. To fight bandits, she couldn’t quite believe it. She was Big Brienne, the big joke. Even Lord Robert though not as hateful towards her as his wife regarded her with amusement. The one who truly seemed to value her skill was Ser Jaime, had he chosen her to accompany him? Whoever had, she would not let anyone down. In the early hours of the morning Lady Cersei saw the small party off, looking like a resplendent goddess, granting them favour. It had less knights than Brienne expected but she pushed her doubts down. They were setting off with justice on their side. The fact that Ser Davos, Lord Stannis’ right hand man who she liked softened the blow that Inchfield had also been chosen. Ser Jaime had been picked to lead the party but he didn’t seem particularly happy. “Thank you sweet sister.” He said and tried to grab her hand but she wrenched out of his grasp Brienne noticed. “I will return with the noble Lady.” He announced loudly and smiling widely but Brienne thought it was false. It didn’t matter she decided what was going on between them, it was good that Ser Jaime was so positive about it. It was good to have that sort of mindset before a quest. It was her first ever and her stomach was a cocktail of nerves and excitement. Somewhere out there Lady Allriya and Lord Beric were in grave danger but they were coming to save them.

They were setting off into their own song of knights and ladies


	2. The Quest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne's first Quest

After discussing the bandits with Lord Renly, they set off on her very first quest. Almost immediately she noticed Ser Jaime’s mood had worsened. His sulking never usually lasted long but something seemed off _._ Something made her think of his sister. He didn’t speak at all which was strange. Usually he never shut up. Even in the midst of fighting. “Ser Jaime?” she asked when she couldn’t stand it anymore. This silence was too odd. He ignored her. She sighed. It did no good to worry about him. She rode off to go and to speak with Ser Davos who had always treated her respectfully. They talked in little bursts and rode in companionable silence but she couldn’t help but notice Ser Jaime continued to stew in his own misery. That night after noticing him sitting alone she swallowed her misgivings and for the first time she asked, “Do you wish to spar, Ser Jaime?”

“Sure." he replied indifferently. They went off to the riverside away from the others. The swords clanging was the only noise to be heard apart from the rush of the river. No running commentary. No quips. No thoughts about the situation they were in.

“Oh you can even ruin silence, it drives me crazy.” Brienne burst out unexpectedly.

“Ruin silence? I didn’t know that was possible.” He looked very amused. It was the first smile she had seen this day.

“You know what I mean. What’s wrong with you?” The question was out of her mouth without thinking. Why had she asked him something so personal? To distract herself she pressed her attack.

“What . . about . . Inchfield?” he grunted as he fought it off. _Inchfield_. Even now it was his attempt to win the bet that came to mind. He was shorter than her but reasonably strong. His cruder attempt was in a way less cruel than Hyle’s subtle overtures but it was still so embarrassing. The way he had waited until only a few men were around to launch himself on her. Her attack faltered.

“Why do you hate him?”

“I don’t.” She said shortly. As if she could share such a thing with him.

“Liar.” She hated that he knew that and even more she hated her reddening skin.

“You know what, I’ve changed my mind. I prefer the silence.” She pressed forward and he ended up being backed up against a tree.

“Oh yes, this silence for all the profound thinking and special harp music wench.” He said sarcastically. What does that mean she thought?

“My name is Brienne.” She told him firmly.

“They should etch that on your tombstone, you say it a thousand times a day.”

“Only because you call me wench ten thousand times a day.” She argued. He knew how she felt about his stupid nickname. It was so infuriating. Even when she was trying to be nice. They were standing very close. She saw a flicker out of the corner of her eye. Ser Davos was stood watching them. He looked embarrassed. They were standing so close, Brienne suddenly realised what it looked like and flushed.

“Ser Davros, can you leave us alone please? We are just finishing our first bout.” Ser Jaime drawled.

“It’s Davos.” She snapped and moved away.

Davos cleared his throat. “My apologies but Lord Stannis ordered me to take care of the lady.”

“ The wench is perfectly capable of defending herself. I’d bet all the gold in Casterly Rock she can do a better job than you can. She’ll only have a few bruises from my imminent victory.” He grinned at her cheerfully but it just made Brienne’s embarrassment deepen. She moved further away. Somehow it seemed a lot more exposed than the courtyard back at Stormsend.

“My lord, it is my duty to-“

“I am the commanding officer and it’s our custom to spar alone.” Ser Jaime sounded annoyed. _Our custom_. She supposed they had a custom now. _Her Father would hate this_.

“It’s alright. Ser Davos is right. It’s inappropriate for people of our birth and sex to spend long amounts of unsupervised time together. I think we’ve had enough for today. Shall we go back to the camp Ser Davos?” It was the appropriate thing to say. Ser Davos smiled apologetically at her and she smiled back understandingly. Her time at Stormsend meant she was well aware how devoted Ser Davos was to Lord Stannis. Lord Stannis must have felt strongly about how she and Ser Jaime spent their time. Brienne hoped Lord Stannis hadn't written to her Father, she had only sent him a brief missive, informing him of her journey to help rescue a couple and had tried to downplay the danger as much as possible.

That night when she woke up needing to urinate, she passed Ser Jaime’s slumbering form. She heard him mumble, clearly distressed but the only word she could make out was a name: “Elia.”

She was transported back in time to the inn back on Tarth with Old Sam sat in the corner near the large fire on the old rocking chair. One time he had promised her and some of the other Island children a story of great romance. The boys protested while the girls simpered but they all gathered around his feet while her Father met with the local merchants and sellers in the pub. Old Sam’s stories were often met with derision from even the inn’s owners and to Brienne they stretched incredulity especially when detailing his own achievements but no one could deny their entertainment value. Brienne had assumed it would be Duncan and Jenny and hoped he would sing for them too as he had a nice voice. Septa Roelle didn’t like songs that didn’t involve Faith of the Seven and had made her drink salt water when she had caught Brienne singing Jenny Of Oldstones. But surely it wasn't a sin to listen? She was to be disappointed.

“This is one of the greatest love stories ever told and it only happened a few years ago. . .”

“Ugh is this about King Rhaegar and Lyanna. That one is so boring/” a pimply boy complained. 

“It is not.” A girl protested. “It’s beautiful, a story of love and sacrifice and/”

“Sssh the pair of you, I’m telling the story. And it ain’t about them two. Bit boring that one. Oooh he sees her at a tourney, they run off, huge war bit dull don’t you think?” Old Sam mused. Brienne who had been here a few times where he had told that exact story as a legendary biopic restrained from calling him a hypocrite. “This is the story of the Kingslayer.” A shocked silence went over the fidgeting children. “And why he murdered the King not in cold blood but for passion.” He began dramatically. “He was young remember and the young they love so deeply, without caution. When the Silver Prince met his Lady Love he left a furious, scorned wife behind: the Dornish Queen. She had grown up in the land of snakes and lust and felt betrayed as she had thought she would Queen someday. So she formed a plan. . .” The children drank it in fascinated. “She was still a pretty lady though of course no maiden. But she was a clever one and filled with ambition. It burned within in her and in the young, golden knight she saw an opportunity. As her husband romanced with his true love miles away she plotted to bring his family down and place herself on the Iron Throne. The Dornish Queen used her wiles to lure the knight under her spell/”

“What does wiles mean?” asked a boy.

“It means lady parts idiot.” Another older boy said. Brienne blushed.

Old Sam chuckled. “The King was Old and Mad. He didn’t like his good-daughter and kept her at arm’s length. So she knew what she had to do. Whilst the war raged on and thousands lost either lives in the glory of battle she spoke to the knight, pushing and prodding him into the unthinkable, the greatest sin/”

“What’s this then?” her Father boomed cheerfully a little drunk.

“The story of the Kingslayer and the Dornish Queen My Lord Evenstar.” A child said respectfully.

Her Father began to chuckle. “Honestly Sam what nonsense are you telling them now? A man such as that should take responsibility for his own sin.”

“It’s not nonsense.” Old Sam pouted. “Everyone knows how the Dornish Queen went on her knees and begged for the Kingslayer’s life once the King returned. The King was so moved, romantic soul that he is he granted her request but the lovers were still torn from each other’s embrace. . .” Some of the girls sighed mournfully.

“And then kept her as one of his Queens? Honestly Sam, age has made you even worse than you were. Come Brienne lets go home.”

The next day as she rode Brienne pondered this. Old Sam’s story had some holes of course but the more she spent time with Ser Jaime the more his Kingslaying didn’t make sense. He was a killer she knew and he could be cruel but to murder the King in full knowledge that everyone would know of such a crime? Had he done it for love? The only woman she had ever seen him favour was his own sister, to the point where a dark part of her mind suspected something so scandalous she had shook herself for being so silly and speculative. Was there a kernel of truth to the story?

“What a lovely morning. You know this is my favourite kind of morning, so bright and clear. What’s your favourite type of morning? Davros?” Ser Jaime broke in her train of thought, clearly over his sullen silence from yesterday.

“His name is Davos.” She corrected again. “And no one has a favourite type of morning.”

“Of course they do.” He countered. “Like a favourite rain. I like a good thunderstorm rain, it’s very dramatic. What about you?”

“I like a nice misty morning, with dew on the grass.” Ser Davos offered very politely. The fact he was clearly embarrassed about being their chaperone made her feel uncomfortable. They had nothing to hide. What if Lord Stannis wrote to her father? He had shown no further indication into pushing into marriage but she saw no developments with him either. She knew from the gossip Lord Renly had provided hr that he had taken up with a Myrish singer for a few weeks and then nothing.

“Helpful for smuggling?” Ser Jaime asked so Brienne glared at him. He was just being rude for no reason. She knew he knew Davos' name.

“Thunderstorms too.” The Onion knight replied very politely.

“I like rain in the wind. Just gentle drops.” Brienne said quietly to save Ser Davos from his tirade.

“Like by the sea. Tell me about Tarth.” She looked at him suspiciously. He had enquired about Tarth before but she had always fought off his attempts to learn about her past.

“Tell me about Casterly Rock.” She challenged back.

“Wench, I asked first.” He protested.

“Ser Davos shall we refuse to speak to Ser Jaime if he refuses to call us by our name?” Brienne suggested firmly. Just because he was in charge didn’t mean he could be so disrespectful. Ser Jaime smirked as if she had issued some sort of challenge.

“Wench what do you think of this . . .”

“Tell me is it easier to smuggle . . .”

“I had a strange dream the other night where I was eating apple pie, but then I realised I was apple pie, it was a real mindblower. . .”

“Please don’t tell us about any more of our dreams my Lord.” Ser Davos almost begged leaving Brienne stewing in annoyance. She was pretty sure he wasn’t dreaming about apple pie but of Queen Elia.

“I miss the childish silence.” She complained.

“You never did explain about those silences.”

“You made a joke about harp music remember?” She knew who he must be speaking of. The King had a famous love of harps. His music was supposedly enchanting but he had given it up years ago. The King would have been playing quite regularly though when he was the Crown Prince. When Ser Jaime lived in Kingslanding. Before the war.

“Oh I understand what you mean My Lady.” said Ser Davos,” There was a moment after I proposed to Marya at night and all the stars were out, it was very lovely.” The obvious affection in his voice made Brienne feel the familiar muted swirl of jealousy, sadness and relief.

“Is Marya your wife?” Ser Jaime asked, not sounding particularly interested.

“Yes, she’s the best woman in the world.” She felt a stab of envy, he seemed so in love.

“Do you have children?” Ser Jaime asked.

They both stared at him. “Ser Davos has seven sons. His eldest Ser Dale is riding with us Ser Jaime.” She couldn’t believe he hadn’t bothered to learn the names of his own party. Why wasn’t he taking this seriously? Ser Davos smiled at him not looking offended and rode back to join the son in question.

“Aaah I see the resemblance now." Ser Jaime commented.

“Why aren’t you taking this seriously? How can you not know who is in your own party? This quest is important. Lady Allyria and Lord Beric are depending upon us.” She couldn’t understand how he was not more concerned.

“Your first venture into knightly valour not what you thought it would be?” So he was back to mocking her? She wanted to bite back, slip back easily into their old routines. But something stopped her. He looked terrible. He was still as handsome as ever but there was something _off_ about him. Brienne didn’t understand why she cared so much but she did. She took a deep breath and did what her Father had always told her was the right thing to do. Be honest.

“They are counting on us Ser Jaime. You have to take this seriously. It’s your duty. I know you are upset with your sister. I . . I am an only child so I’m no expert in sibling relationships but you cannot let it distract you and . . don’t take it out on us.” She could feel the traitorous flush creeping up her neck and she stared straight ahead so she didn’t lose her nerve. Brienne didn’t want to talk about her family but she wished she could understand his situation better. She knew it was something to do with his sister. There was something about them and the way they had said goodbye. No one else had seemed to see it.

“I’m sorry." he said. He sounded sincere. It was a simple apology but she would take that sincerity over his mindless chatter. She gave an abrupt nod in acknowledgement of his apology.

That night Ser Jaime sat with Ser Davos, his son and herself which she took as a good sign. He looked into the fire depths. Across the camp Inchfield bragged with his friend. Brienne still didn’t look at the knight, she wasn't going to let him ruin this for her. “Yes we’re not sure yet,” Ser Dale was saying, “ we’ve been waiting a long time for this. Maybe Marya after my mother. When I offered though she said that was a waste, that we should name our first child after someone great. Like Aegon or Alysanne.”

“Alysanne is a beautiful name." She said honestly. Good Queen Alysanne was surely the greatest Queen to have ruled over Westeros and it had been her sister’s name. He smiled at her clearly ecstatic at the news of his impending fatherhood. “

Talk turned to the mission and the hostages themselves. “Apparently Lord Bryce Caron wanted to go with him but the ransom insisted on minimal men or the Lady would die.” Dale commented.

“Caron?” Jaime frowned.

“A brave man." Ser Davos assured him.

“Have you fought him?” he asked her.

“Who?” asked Inchfield, as he was passing, coming back after relieving himself.

“Lord Caron.” Ser Davos said patiently.

“Weren’t you supposed to marry him?” the knight interrupted again.

“No, his brother was my first betrothal.” Brienne replied steadily keeping her face empty of expression. She didn’t want to talk about this.

“Your first one?” Ser Dale asked curiously.

“Dale.” Ser Davos scolded him, “Forgive him my lady for his impertinent question.”

“How many betrothals have you had?” Ser Jaime asked her bluntly.

She flushed but raised her chin defiantly. “Three.” He waited as if in challenge. To see if she would elaborate her shameful romantic history in front of others of be a coward. “Lord Bryce’s brother was first, Ronnet Connington was second and my father’s castellan was third.” Listing them like that didn’t remove the different kinds of stings each had caused.

“You seem to have many romantic misfortunes." Inchfield commented. Everyone glared at him and his smug tone. Brienne wondered why he had been chosen. She had assumed Robert had picked the band of knights as Ser Jaime hadn’t known who they were but thinking about it the Lord was usually drunk and hadn’t even seen them off. Stannis was more likely or even Lady Cersei. The latter she knew disliked her and Stannis perhaps could have meant him as a warning. _Of what men truly were_. Under the knightly veneer. Ser Jaime looked like a knight now as he always did. “Inchfield go and dig a latrine.” Ser Jaime ordered not looking at him. The knight swept off glaring at her as if it was her fault. There was an awkward silence. Brienne sighed and answered Dale’s curious look. They would only continue to wonder, better to kill the curiosity off now. “ The first died of a chill, the second is a swaggering drunk and I gave the last one a few broken bones."

“You attacked your betrothed?” Ser Jaime looked like he was suppressing a laugh.

“No," her eyes blazed in indignation, "it was a fair fight, he said, he said I had to give up the sword.” She wrapped a hand around it fiercely.

“So you challenged him?” Ser Jaime burst out laughing as if it was hilarious.

Brienne glared at him angrily. “Do not m/”

“Do not mock me.” He beat her to it, “I’m not, was he very angry? Please tell me it was in front of everyone.”

She stared at him in loss. “It was in front of the castle’s residents. He wanted my chastisement to be public . . why are you laughing? It’s not funny.” He could be so strange.

“Isn’t it? Wow if only I could have challenged someone to a fight to get out of marriage. How old were you?"

“Sixteen, he was sixty.” He laughed harder. He wasn’t mocking her, he looked impressed. She thought about Wagastaff so sure of himself with his greying hair and stature loosing to her, barely more than a child. She began to laugh too.

Time passed as they made their way to the Wendwater River where a village was located that included an inn that Lord Renly had helpfully informed was the base to the criminals operations. Ser Jaime’s mood inexplicably began to lighten. They sang songs, hunted and rode together but every evening they would dance their special dance. Not alone of course. Ser Davos was always there, a little apologetic and always polite. Sometimes his son would accompany them and they would spar with them sometimes but it was never the same as when they were alone. It was nice though, not what she had expected but nicer than she had reason to hope for. One day as they neared the tavern during a sparring session Ser Jaime spotted smoke. They along with Ser Davos went to investigate its source and found a small party in a beautiful glade. Four men had made a camp, one was passed out cold, another dozing. The other two were drinking and laughing with a brown haired girl on one of their laps.

The fight, with the surprise advantage on their side was swift and brutal. It was her first real fight. No sparring, tourneys or dancing. This fight ended in death and bloodshed. As a girl she would never imagined it would be in this random spot in the Stormlands alongside the Kingslayer. She could never imagine that she now only seemed to think of him as Ser Jaime and that he saved her life. She had been trying to help the girl, a small brown haired slip of a thing who had leapt away from the man holding her as if he was poisonous. Even from the trees Brienne had noticed how she had sat so stiffly and flinched from his touches. It was her duty to try and protect her as the man had grabbed her arm and wrenched her back as if she was some kind of rag doll. She lunged for the girl before she could be used as some kind of hostage or get caught in the crossfire. When she was trying to reassure the girl whilst dragging her away while fighting the man who tried to keep his hands on her another man sprang at her. The cut he would have struck would probably not have killed her but it could have seriously injured her but Jaime saved her by putting himself between them.

“Thank you." Her voice came out very stiff but she was grateful. He seemed delighted. They left the dozing one of them alive for questioning and walked back to the main camp.

“What’s your name?” she asked the girl softly. She said nothing.

“It’s ok, I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.” The girl looked at her doubtfully. “I travel with a band of knights who have a duty to protect you. I. . I will protect you even if you don’t tell me your name.” She said, hoping she sounded firm and trustworthy. The girl bit her dirty fingernails.

“You saved me. You came straight for me.” The girl repeated what she had said earlier, still dazed from the bloodshed. Brienne blushed. She had told her that it was her duty to protect the innocent first.

“I did what anyone would do. Can you tell me your name?” The girl hid her face behind her hair and didn’t say anything else. Brienne’s heart sank. She was doing a terrible job on her first quest. Probably her last one too. The other knights were annoyed they hadn’t had their share of the glory but they were eager about the spoils.

“Oh she’s not very pretty.” Inchfield complained, gesturing at the girl who tried to hide behind Brienne.

“She’s not a spoil of battle.” She warned him as menacingly as she could. "You will not touch her."

“Who put you in charge? Wenching is part of knightly life.” Inchfield retorted. “Seeing as you didn’t bring back anything else of value.”

“There’s some gold and wine if you want to fetch more of it.” Ser Jaime answered before she could, “as for the girl, clearly the wench has claimed her as a spoil, it is her right as she actually did participate in the fight.” Brienne hid her smile. Inchfield flushed but he said nothing.

Ser Jaime sat the lad down. He was very young Brienne noticed, not her idea of a vicious bandit. The girl eyed him with a wariness she didn’t like though. “I am Lord Jaime Lannister. I have some questions about bandits that have invaded this wood. Are you part of them?” The boys eyes widened at his name.

“The Kingslayer?” he asked, gawping. Ser Jaime clenched his jaw.

The girl too gasped and shrank back. “Don’t worry he won’t hurt you.” Brienne whispered to her honestly. She didn’t know how she knew so instinctively but she knew he wouldn’t.

“Are you in league with the bandits?”

“No. . no, no, My Lord.” The boy stuttered.

“Liar.” The girl declared unexpectedly, “He is My Lord, all four of them were.”

“Were, were, Rorge he , he kicked us out. He said we were good for nothing. I, I didn’t want to join, they took over the village, turned the tavern into their . .their place. Anyone who defied them was killed or worse.”

“So you took part in the robberies?”

“I had too.I-“

“What of the abduction of Lady Allyria Dayne?” The boy was silent.

Davos cleared his throat. "I found this on his person, My Lord.” The dangling pendant caught the sunlight and sparkled. An odd expression flickered across Ser Jaime’s expression. “It is the sigil of House Dayne.” Ser Davos continued.

“Well," Ser Jaime asked the boy very coldly.

The boy’s face hardened. “I didn’t want to. Rorge never said nothing about no girl. She wouldn’t stop screaming. I didn’t know she was some Dornish Lord’s daughter, I didn’t and it wasn't like she would be needing it in the cellars anyway.” Ser Jaime stepped towards him. “You can’t judge me. You can’t. You’re, you’re a murderer, a kingslayer, I, I told you what you wanted. Who are you to judge me? A man without honour.”

“Calm down." Ser Jaime snapped. “ I’m not going to kill you, you’ll await trial in Stormsend. Lord Robert will decide your fate. But I will take your hand, you are a thief."

“It’s my mother’s, she’s a Dayne.” He blustered.

“Liar, I saw it made, I know who its true owner is.” The way Ser Jaime said it made Brienne’s skin prickle.

“It’s my word against yours.”

“That you’re secretly related to the Dayne’s?” Ser Jaime replied scornfully.

“You are not, you’re the drapers nephew." The girl declared. “You were one of the first to join, you held me down while they. . you helped keep the Lady in captivity. They’re keeping her and the lightning lord in the cellars my Lord.” Brienne heard the story behind her words.

The boy spat at her. “ Shut your fucking mouth. I want a trial by combat.” He said suddenly,” you have to let me go then, no noose or anything? A singer told me of it.” There was silence. “I demand it.”

“It’s just a hand.” Ser Jaime said, “The Lord Robert is a just man, he might not take your life.” Take the trial Brienne thought.

"I demand it." the boy insisted.

“There’s always the watch.” Ser Jaime offered. One last chance.

"I demand trial by combat. Kill me with your sword if you can. The same one you killed the King with.” Brienne held in a gasp at such a provocative statement.

The fight was over within a minute. It was quick and clean. The boy gargled a little on his own blood. The boy slumped on the ground, his blood spreading out around him, running over the crinkly leaves. The girl regarded them all fearfully. Brienne patted her shoulder in what she hoped was a comforting matter. “Get as much information as you can out of her.” Ser Jaime seemed angry. He couldn’t stop looking at the pendant.

“My Lord, what the boy said/” she began.

"It doesn’t matter.” He said shortly, “ Just talk to the girl, sharply if needs be. We need as much information as possible before we attack.”

“I don’t think we should alienate her, we should give her some time/” She thought he understood about the girl?

“I didn’t ask for your opinion.” He told her shortly. She stalked off angrily. How dare he speak to her like that? They were- she stopped that train of thought. Her Father would be furious if she considered the Kingslayer to be her friend.

“Come on, you can bathe in the river. My tunics too big for you but I’ve got a bit of thread to patch your dress up a little.” She told the girl distractedly.

“Alys.”

“Excuse me?”

“Alys. That’s my name. You saved me. You came straight for me.” She looked into the girls brown eyes and knew this was a big sign of trust. How important this was.

“Short for Alysanne?” “Yes. .after my Aunt. Who was named after that Queen. Why?”

“It’s a pretty name that’s all.” Brienne smiled at her thinking of pink cheeked Alysanne in her wooden cradle, back home in Tarth before her small body seized up and went still.

There was great celebration that night, the wine was shared around freely as well as the gold. Brienne disapproved with the bandits still at large but she held her tongue. It gave her opportunity to talk with Alys. The general toasts were made. “To the King and Queen. May they live long and prosper.”

“To the Queen.” She saw Ser Jaime toast. He always toasted that way. He stared into the flames, the reds, oranges and yellows and smiled a little. She turned back around to Alys, short for to make sure she was comfortable. They talked some more but understandably Alys was tired so she helped into bed. “You saved me.” Her voice had an edge of doubt in it as Brienne wrapped her up in the warmest cover as if she wasn’t sure. She stared at Brienne as if she wanted to say something but then rolled over instead. Brienne still felt the strange rush of the fight from earlier and was wide awake. She spotted Ser Jaime at the edge of the camp but still close enough that she could keep an eye on Alys. He was sat by a large tree and was quite drunk. “Wench." he greeted her. “That’s a nice necklace.” She said hoping she sounded casual. Something about that pendant had thrown him and his usual suave manner. He was clutching it now, had been staring at it as she approached as it held all the answers to the questions of the universe. It was a lovely one in Brienne’s opinion, silver with the simple design of House Dayne upon it with a violet gem.

“I saw her give it to her, it seems like yesterday but it’s not is it. It’s been years.” He said softly, turning over the pendant in his hand.

“You mean Queen Elia right?” she guessed bravely. She had heard Lady Ashara had been the closest companion to the Dornish Queen despite her disgrace. It was that expression that made the leap. It was grief. Whatever their relationship it was clear Ser Jaime missed her dearly.

"Yes, why are you asking?”

“No reason." She lied.

“You would never survive in King’s Landing.” He promised her. She blinked. “ You can’t lie. Well you can a little, but not to me, I know you to well.” He didn’t know her that well she protested in her mind.

“Lying is not an admirable skill, my father always taught me that only in truth can you act freely. Kings Landing is the centre of Westeros it shouldn’t be shrouded in mistruth.” she argued to cover up the unease that actually he did know her quite well by now.

“It shouldn’t but it is. It will make you want to crawl into a little hole and die that place.” His voice was bitter.

“Still one should always try to be as honest and straightforward as possible." she protested.

“Really? Honest hey? Tell me what have you heard about me?” There was a silence as she tried to figure out how to answer that challenge but he spoke again before she could. “ About the King? No, that one’s a little uncomfortable isn’t it? What about the Silver prince, no King, he is King now. It’s weird, I always think of him as a prince like deep down when I think of King, I think, I think, well I think of Aerys. Do you know what I mean? Aerys, blood of the Dragon he was, yet,” he leaned in closer, now they were so close, sat together she could see his breath misting in the air, "his blood ran as red as that peasant boy today. Funny that hey?” His green eyes gleamed with intensity. She recoiled in horror. “Yes Aerys, how much truth have you heard about him? And the others? So many rumours, that Aerys isn’t really dead? That it was all a big conspiracy? That Rhaegar put me up to it? That I did it for Robert? That I did it for power? Power? I never wanted power! That Aerys was going to tear the lovers asunder and I was so moved by that idea I killed him, I heard that one, I mean come one? Burnt them to asunder would be more accurate. That I did it for Elia, that we were going to rule the Seven Kingdoms together? Have you heard that one, oh you have.” She tried not to react but he noticed something in her expression. She clenched her hands and tried to move away but he grabbed her hand. “You know after it happened, everyone just. . they all took a step back. It’s hard to explain, I wasn’t Jaime anymore, I was that act, that’s all I was. It could be a little step or a wide fucking berth but I felt it. But she. . she stepped forward or she didn’t move I don’t know. She looked at me the same. She saved me, defended me to the King so yes I loved her. She was my friend. I protected her and she protected me, there’s no conspiracy or some torrid love affair, that’s just . . . she deserves better than that. Seven Hells even I deserve better than that.”

She tried to digest all the emotions and information he had just volunteered to her. _I loved her_. The grief seemed to cling those very words but it hadn’t been the love that Old Sam had told her of as a child. Shame flooded through her as she realised how stupid she was been thinking over Old Sam's words. Just like Septa Roelle said, head in the clouds suspecting him of adulterous affairs at every turn. It had been a real love, deeper than she herself had ever experienced. Brienne also realised something else, he hadn’t told her why. “Why did you do it?” she asked her voice hoarse, she looked at the necklace, tangled in their hands. He had seen it made years ago, by his friend the Queen probably for her friend. He opened his mouth.

“My Lord,” Ser Davos said appearing out of nowhere.

“Look we’re not fucking or kicking each other’s head in, can you leave us alone for five fucking minutes?”

“Jaime.” Brienne admonished. She had took her hand away embarrassed. They had been sitting very close. She looked at the pendant again. There was something else that bothered her about that thing. Jaime had confirmed the origin, the Queen herself so surely it was expensive, like very expensive? She looked at the raucous camp. They were very, very drunk. “Ser Davos, have you been drinking?”

“My Lady only a little.”

“Me too.” Jaime added.

“It’s been strengthened, look at Inchfield, he’s practically passed out.” Brienne’s voice had a note of panic in it. Jaime yelled at them to stop drinking.

“Jaime," she said urgently, “that necklace, you say you saw it before, was it the. . did it have something to do with the Queen?” Jaime nodded, his face closed off. "It’s beautiful, why would Rorge let some wastrels take it, it must be expensive?”

“Perhaps they stole it.” Ser Davos suggested patting water into his face.

“No, the boy said he gave them a few trinkets and the wine and told them to get out." It didn’t make sense. The pendant winked at her in the moonlight. She thought of Alys’ look. . .

“Tell the men to prepare, it’s a trap, it’s a bloody trap.” Ser Jaime yelled.

It was too late.


	3. The Unexpected Offer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime has a proposition for Brienne. . .

They came bursting through the trees.

The men tried their best but they were still scrambling, a little tipsy. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Ser Jaime still taking on several opponents and the men put up a fight but she was the only fully sober one. Brienne launched herself into the fight, cutting through men who snarled and spat at her but still before her. Until Rorge arrived. He was almost as tall as she was, his face full of malevolent cruelty and triumph. 

“Well do you have my ransom?” His voice was mocking. Jaime charged at him but a man knocked at his neck from behind.

“You cannot, have you no honour?” she demanded hotly. That was no way to fight. Jaime was sprawled on the ground and a ruffian pointed his longsword at his back. Inchfield was dead she noted numbly and she could see at least two other bodies.

“Don’t hurt him.” She said.

“Gods you’re a woman, a freakishly ugly one at that. Is this your camp follower Lannister?” Jaime struggled slightly and slumped.

“She is a highborn lady." Davos corrected him from his place of surrender.

“Yes," Jaime agreed “ the heir to Tarth.”

“Well bitch put the sword down or I’ll . .” he grabbed Alys, who had unsuccessfully tried to flee from the ambush, ”slit her throat.” Alys struggled in his grasp but was swamped by his strength. The betrayal echoed hollowly in her mind. She knew Alys hadn't wanted too. She was just a girl. A scared, lost little girl. It didn't change the fact that they were trapped here with the bandits and Lord Beric and Lady Allyria had lost their best hope at rescue.

“I’m sorry, they made me” She wept, tears running down her freckly face. Rorge snarled in disgust and pressed a dagger into the hollow of her throat.

Brienne swallowed and did the only thing she could. She lowered her sword. Brienne hated the feeling of helplessness that washed over her as it dropped from her grasp. Her last line of defence. 

“It’s ok," she told Alys,”I understand.” She hoped that comforted her but she doubted it.

This was nothing like the songs or Old Sam's stories.

They bound her with Jaime in an attempt to further humiliate her and they rode on just one horse. He slept fitfully and when he was awake stared at her with a sort of dazed expression that worried her. Any attempt to talk with him was quickly shut down by the bandits. Worse than the slap she received when she tried to speak with him was the new nickname they had come up for her: _Kingslayer's whore._ How creative of you she thought scornfully as they hurled it at her like a weapon and sniggered at her. In a way it was a weapon, all it took was a name to ruin her. All she would be known as is his camp follower. It made her very angry as she knew they meant it in jest, as if anyone would choose her as some illicit lover but the truth wasn't necessary for a ruined reputation. If her Father found out. . she pushed that aside, she couldn't think about that now. She had to focus on the situation they were all in.

Eventually they reached the inn. Alys had told her a little about it but the cherished home she had spoken of had clearly been damaged by the bandit's infestation. It was a three storey building with thick wooden beams supporting its walls. The white washed paint had faded, the curtains had been torn off and one of the windows had been smashed and no one had bothered to clean it up. It was not the home Alys had described. The inn itself was she noticed almost deserted. Rorge's hold on the village was not as strong she guessed, now that many of his men had been killed. The villagers only needed help, an injection of spirit to fight back. Brienne felt frustration build inside her as she thought about how they could have helped all these people.

They were stashed in the cell together, the lovers Rorge chuckled to himself.

“I’m so sorry Jaime.” Brienne felt so drained.

“It’s not your fault.”

“I should have-“

“Brienne, you couldn’t have done anymore, I should have realised it was a trap. I was so caught up in what the necklace reminded me of that I didn’t consider the possibility that it was bait. Don’t worry someone will pay the ransom for you and me too.”

“The golden lion of Casterly Rock and his camp follower?” Brienne said wryly referring to Rorge’s numerous jokes, mostly in jest but with a hint of bitterness.

“My father he will be so worried.” She could imagine him reading a letter describing her first great foray into playing a knight. What a joke she was. They had failed the lost Lord and Lady and all the poor villagers subjected to Rorge’s torment.

“You’re not a camp follower, I know exactly who you are.” There was something oddly intense in his voice, no trace of easy mockery. She looked at him and he looked back at her, his green eyes wide and earnest.

“Are you okay?” He looked almost impassioned.

“Yes, I’m wonderful, I’ve been searching for you for years.” It was like a line out of a romantic ballad and she shrank back, away from him. What could he mean by that? He couldn’t mean that though.

“Jaime I think you hit your head/” Brienne rationalised.

“I hit the top of my back anyway I've found you, I’d almost given up hope. Elia told me I do that you know, look without really seeing. I was looking at you but I didn’t really see.” Brienne blinked. Now she really was lost. She swallowed the mixture of relief, disappointment and anticipation and tried to focus. “Elia, the Queen she was like my lady, does that make sense? Like from one of the songs. A knight and his lady? Well she asked me to do something on her deathbed, a special task.” Brienne felt her curiosity spark. Jaime smiled at her encouragingly. So there it was. She had wanted more insight in between the Queen and Jaime’s friendship. She supposed now was the time. “She was worried about her daughter.”

“The Princess Rhaenys?” asked Brienne, very intrigued now despite herself. This was a part of the tale she had never heard.

“Yes, she’s a correspondent of mine actually," he bragged, “what have you heard of her?”

“In Tarth they say she is beautiful and kind. The Lady of the Realm.” That is what she had heard. She had never met the King’s only daughter.

“Well, Elia wanted someone that would protect her from all forms of harm.” He trailed off and waited for her reaction. It took a few seconds to comprehend what he was suggesting.

“Me?” she asked incredulous. “I’m not fit to guard a princess, I, and what about Renly?” Her head span with the implications of what he had just said. She felt so many darting emotions: pride that he considered her worthy of such a position, worry already about what it would mean, fear of failing as she had failed before, anxiety about Lord Renly and the shame of considering breaking her promise to him. It was the last that stuck with her.

Jaime blinked. “What about him, Rhaenys is a much worthier charge.” He promised her.

“You don’t get to decide that, I swore him my sword/”

“He’ll let you go, you know he will, he’ll get bored of you eventually.” It was like a verbal slap. The hurt was so sharp even more so because she had began to let her guard down. He hadn’t said something cruel like that in . . . What felt like days passed as he tried to needle word out of her but to no avail. “Please, don’t judge the cause on me. I’m just the message bearer. It’s Elia you would be honouring, she bought peace to the realm, doesn’t she deserve to rest easily knowing her daughter’s safe? I found her, crawled underneath her father’s bed when my father attacked. You know who was with her, the princess of the seven kingdoms, a cat! That’s it. A cat.” Brienne didn’t answer but the words moved her. His plea was heartfelt. She had noticed the way he said Queen Elia’s name with a soft reverence and touch of mourning. Her death really had hit him hard she suspected. The image of the little girl, a princess no less cowering under her bed while a monster stalked her like prey became rooted in her imagination. It was there every time she closed her eyes. Few Dornish people came to Tarth and Brienne had heard from her Father how the little Princess looked like her mother but she had read of Dareon’s conquest and knew that House Martell had the look of the salty Dornishman. She imagined a little girl with a mop of dark hair and olive skin crouching under her probably huge bed in her magnificent chambers scared and alone. Her status at that age could not save her. No knights. . how many knights had been in the vicinity? No guards? No one? _Just a cat_. A cat the only thing between her and a probably gruesome death. It made Brienne feel sick. When she slipped into uneasy sleep she was haunted by the image of that little girl. Her purple eyes filling with tears, curling into herself with a soft bundle of fur while death stalked nearby. If the Princess of the Seven Kingdoms couldn’t get proper protection what hope did the other young women of the realm have? It stewed in Brienne’s mind. She ignored Jaime’s beseeching gaze.

Sleep came in the form of disturbed interpretations of her thoughts. She dreamed of the girl, hiding under her bed. Brienne put herself in front of the would be attacker, a shadowy thing dressed in armour. Brienne reached for her sword but all she found was a rose. _Ronnet's Rose._ Her mind recoiled from the mental blow as the thing advanced but she could nothing, she was powerless, helpless . . .

What seemed like days later there was a sound at the door. A small figure appeared at the doorway. “Alys.” She whispered, not quite believing what she was seeing. Jaime’s head snapped up. The girls dress was even more torn and her face had several bruises on it but her eyes were determined. “Aaah where’s your bandit friends?” he drawled. Brienne kicked him. Now was not the time for his sarcasm.

“I’ve come to rescue you. You, he said . . .he said I was nothing, that no one would care for me but you saved me. I stole his keys while he was sleeping and my friend drugged the guard, let’s go.” She unlocked the cuffs, her hands trembling. Brienne’s heart twisted.

They went and rescued the others: Ser Davos, his son and Ser Marq. The rest were dead. Creeping quietly into the basement, Brienne knocked the only guard out, a boy barely twenty summers she suspected. Lord Dondarrion had been tied up in one corner in rags and straw. He had lost his eye and had many bruises but he was otherwise unharmed. Lady Allyria had a yellowing bruise on her face but she stood up eagerly, ready to fight her way out. According to Alys Rorge was asleep, all they had to do was carefully sneak out and steal some horses and weapons. They were saddled, armoured and ready to go when she realised a problem and said, “There’s not enough horses.”

“I’m not coming with you," said Alys. Her eyes had dark circles underneath and rubbed raw redness that Brienne knew from repeated crying.

“He’ll kill you." Ser Dale was blunt.

“I can’t leave, this is my home. I am the innkeeper’s daughter, this place is all I have left of. .. them. I can’t leave it.”

“I won’t leave you.” Brienne said stubbornly. “These people need us.” She looked at Jaime beseechingly.

He sighed. ”Ser Marq take Lord Beric and Lady Allyria into the woods and hide. Lets free a village.” Alys smiled at him, her eyes brimming with tears.

"You should stay outside. " Brienne told her but the girl shook her head defiantly. "Alys, I will tr to get your family to safety." she promised her. Alys had told her all about her Mother and Father and younger brother. Alys looked at her pityingly.

"They're all dead?" Brienne said in realisation. She nodded.

"It was nice you know, meeting you, someone who had never met me, who never knew me or them. I could pretend they were alive. You gave me about a day of that fantasy, thank you. They killed my Father first when he refused to give up this place. Then they killed my mother, too old and ugly to be worth keeping they said. My brother, well they kept him alive, promised me when they set the trap I could see him. Rorge showed me his corpse when we got back. He'd been dead for a while. Never trust a bandit. This, this inn is all I have left, of them, of me, of my old life. Don't tell me to stay outside because I won't. It's worth saving just like you think I'm worth saving."

"You are worth saving." Brienne assured her. Alys smiled bitterly. Brienne knew why she had been kept alive, what purpose she had been kept for by the bandits. Her body.

Their attack was sharp and calculated, they rounded up the remaining men and women strong enough to swing a sword or knock someone out with a club. It wasn’t many but then again Rorge’s numbers had dwindled too. By the time Rorge came thundering down the stairs half of his men were dead. Glasses were thrown, drapes were torn down and bodies littered the floor, distinguished from drunks by the pools of slippery blood. The air began to rot with the sweet, sickening smell of death. But victory was in their grasp, Brienne could almost taste it under the burgeoning stink.

Rorge clashed swords with her and she launched herself at him. Jaime was busy with his second in command The tide had turned against him and Rorge knew it. He was a good swordsman usually but now with his banditry life slipping from he grasp he did what all animals do when backed into a corner. He became almost feral, his surges of strength almost matching hers but she kept a cooler head. Soon his energy began to fade, his thrusts went wide and she sensed an opening. A deep wound to the chest she inflicted and watching him stagger backwards knew it would be fatal. His small piggy eyes seared at her even as he stumbled away. That had been her big mistake. Goodwin had always warned her that she would slip up one day. One of his hands snatched at Alys arms and in his dwindling strength he pulled her too him, a knife still in his grip. “No, take me, it’s me, no. .” she protested advancing. . if she could just get there in time. . if. . but it was too late. In his last moments, he slashed at her neck as she struggled. _One cut._ That's all it took. Her pale neck gushed blood as she collapsed onto the floor. Brienne stepped over Rorge who tried to feebly grab at her and gathered her in her arms. Their blood should not mingle. She did not deserve to die next to such filth. Brienne carried her to the doorway, hoping against hope for a Maester but she knew deep down it was too late. "Alys, look, the village it's free. Alys." She whispered to the girl who had begun to choke and splutter. Her murky eyes rolled back into her head. "Look, you did it. Just look. Out there, the streets are free because of you. Please." Alys' head lolled on top of her body, completely lifeless.

The body of Alys seemed smaller than when she was alive. So young. She dug the grave herself, politely refusing Ser Davos' assistance and stood vigil over it. It was the sheer cruelty she couldn't get over. In his last moments he had chosen to be cruel, for no gain or purpose other than to perhaps cause this very pain she was feeling right now. He was the villain of the story, he had died and his horrid regime with him but why it did it feel like she had still lost everything? Almost everything.

“It’s a pretty name, Alysanne.” Ser Jaime commented, gesturing to the name she had carved in a small stone acting as a headstone. She said nothing, what was there to say? In the songs or stories knights and heroes made sacrifices or lost loved ones but Brienne hadn't realised what that would actually feel like. Alys wasn't just some step on her grand adventure, she was a person. A person who had needed protection. She blinked and realised Ser Jaime had left probably quite some time ago. 

Lord Beric and his betrothed wanted to move their wedding up. Their obvious affection for each other warmed the part of Brienne’s heart she tried to suppress. It would only make her feel worse to dwell on romance. The couple were very kind though, swallowing their surprise at a woman warrior coming to their rescue and praising her valour quite unnecessarily. Lady Allyria was very pretty even in her dishevelled state but it wasn’t her beauty that Briennes’ treacherous heart was jealous of, it was the way the young, chivalrous Lord looked at her.

Their wedding was so lovely. The Sept was beautiful, hidden away in the woods like some kind of fairy tale. Brienne’s thoughts strayed to Tarth’s own similarly sized Sept and how Septa Roelle had told her she would marry there on day. “God willing, that day you will finally have to become a Lady. Passed from your Father’s care to your Husband’s. See that Brienne.” Septa Roelle had grabbed her arm. Already as a child Brienne had been stronger than the elderly, frailer Septa but she had long pinched fingers with sharp nails that clawed into her flesh. The Septa had gestured to the beautiful stained glass windows that Brienne had loved ever since she could remember depicting a knightly adventure. “See how it ends, with marriage, it is the happy ever after every young. . girl should dream of. One day if you listen and learn that will be you.” Brienne did see. It was the final panel, showing the wedding of the knight and his true lady love captured in multi-coloured glory. The proper end to a song. _Brienne had looked at the true knight and the beautiful, graceful Lady and with a sinking realization she could never be either_.

Brienne kept her face carefully blank as she reminisced watching numbly as the new Lord and Lady Blackhaven pledged to each other. She had accepted the Dondarrions praise uncomfortably and humbly and politely declined Lady Allyria’s invitation to Blackhaven.

Afterwards she sought him out in the Sept’s pretty gardens. “Ser Jaime.” They hadn’t spoken properly in seemingly ages.

“My Lady.” He inclined his head. She took a deep breath. This was it. It was as if her life was forked into two paths. This choice would lead her down into something unknown. But it was a chance of something different to the life she knew awaited her on Tarth. Her Father’s love. But also the expectations. She wasn't a knight. She wasn't a Lady. She wasn't a heir. But perhaps she could protect someone who needed her. “The position you spoke of, on the condition that Renly allows me to leave his service I would like to express my interest."

He stared at her dumbly for a second. “Yes that would be wonderful. You can come with me to the Rock and we’ll make arrangements to go to. . court.”

She nodded and then left quickly before she could talk herself out of it.


	4. The Rock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne visits Casterly Rock. . .  
> My notes aren't working so I just wanted to say thanks for the kudos and comments.  
> Re the pendant if you haven't read the other story and are confused: Elia had it made for Ashara to match hers so they could give their daughters them which they did but Ashara's daughter Elaena gave it to her aunt Allyria, Ashara's sister. Hope that isn't too confusing.

They travelled back quickly to Stormsend to receive the gushing praise of its court. Lord Robert greeted them with, "You had to be rescued by some common wench? Ha! Well, is she here? Is she a pretty one?"

"Alys died in the fight my Lord." Ser Jaime answered.

"Oh, some knights you are hey? Having to be saved by some peasant girl." Lord Robert said chuckling to himself. Brienne froze at hearing Alys’ existence summed up like that. She had saved them.

Brienne had asked to speak to Renly alone, to beg his forgiveness. It was hard telling him her decision. Not as hard as swallowing his reaction. He didn’t seem to care at all. He thanked her for her service graciously and wished her well. He spoke that way to complete strangers, she had seen that. His courtly language was beautiful but empty. She was sure he wished her no harm but he wasn’t invested in her future at all. Later she wiped the shameful tears from her face, no longer would she cry over him.

The next day they began in quite a small carriage with a very lovely Septa named Isla. She was an old lady with a wrinkled face and soft, snowy hair on her way to Lannisport to pass on her healing gifts to the Sept there. Brienne had never felt entirely comfortable around Septas. She knew rationally they were not all like Roelle but they seemed by their very nature so virtuous and feminine. Brienne believed in the Seven and trusted their moral authority but it didn’t stop the strange prickling unease she felt at their serene, orderly grace. Septa Isla was seemingly very sweet though. Ser Jaime suggested they abandon the carriage and saddle their horses when they were out of sight of Stormsend. Brienne’s heart had leapt at the idea but the Septa’s presence made her pause. It would be quite rude and she had a strange feeling the Septa had been sent by Lord Stannis. She had seen him looking quite grim whilst he assisted her into the carriage. A small voice inside her head suggested she was the new Davos, the new chaperone. As if they needed one. "The longing for the open sky," Isla said knowingly whilst she sewed in the carriage.

Under the open sky Brienne felt her spirits lift a little but the bitter taste of Renly was still there lingering like the aftertaste of a disgusting meal. "She's much nicer than the Septa we had growing up," Jaime said as the rode over green hills. "Well the first one was an old harridan, the second one though was completely terrified of Cersei." he chuckled. "What was yours like?"

"Her name was Roelle." Brienne didn’t want to discuss her. It was like Inchfield all over again but worse in some abstract way. She could still feel Roelle’s steel grip on her arm. She had been so much stronger than her, even as a girl but she hadn’t shaken her off, somehow Roelle had been more powerful than her.

"That's not an answer. Oh, she wasn't awful was she? I think the first one tried to hit me with a slipper once or was that a groomsman? I can't remember."

"I'm sure many servants wished to hit you with a slippers." she assured him in an attempt to distract him. Sometimes he had the attention span of a child.

"What was she like?" he pestered. Other times he could just not let things go. Especially if he knew it irked her.

"She. . she never hit me with slippers or anything else. She taught me sewing and other ladylike vocations. She's dead now." All of that was true. Mostly. The slaps had been very rare.

"Well are you any good?"

"At what?" she asked, frowning.

"Sewing?" She inhaled sharply. She remembered Roelle throwing her poor attempts of stitching away until she could make something “half-presentable.” "I can stitch a wound, Goodwin showed me how." she said instead. "He was the Master of Arms at Tarth. He taught me how to fight, how to deal with wounds, all about knights and their tactics, about current great warriors and ones from the past. . . he's dead now too." The grief came flooding back. Goodwin and his blunt teachings. She missed him.

"Want to race?" he asked casually. She smiled gratefully at him, her competitive side already breaking through the grief. They spent the rest of the afternoon racing each other and picking their way through trails. Jaime chattered on making her laugh and that night they sparred under the stars.

Their route to Casterly Rock was not as straightforward as usual as they wished to avoid as many stops at Keeps as possible. They stopped at a minor house for some supplies as Isla had taken a little ill. “Stop fussing,” she scolded, waving her newly brewed medicine with the Maester’s supplies, “A little bit of this and a good night’s rest and I’ll be right as rain.” The Lord of the house of course offered them a bed for the night and some supplies but he was distracted as he already had much grander guests. Lord and Lady Florent had deigned to visit his little keep and he spent the only night they stayed there fussing over them. It made Brienne feel relieved, her manners left a lot to be desired and she welcomed any distraction from the spotlight. A worry about how acceptable she would seem to not just Casterly Rock but the court of Kings Landing reared its ugly head.

The Florents looked like a noble couple. Lord Florent was a handsome man but Brienne noted his slow reflexes. His wife was very pretty with a long face. Brienne had heard the rumours about her, the ones about her parents anyway. She looked at Jaime who was gripping her hand and Lady Elaena snatched it back looking more surprised than hurt. Of course Ser Jaime had known her mother Lady Ashara when he had been at court and Lady Elaena had been the Princess' closest childhood companion. She remembered his expression when he had seen the necklace.

“Are you going to visit the capital?” Jaime enquired.

“Oh no, His grace was most gracious but we can’t intrude upon their hospitality too often can we my lady?” Lord Florent addressed his wife as if he hoped she would contradict him.

“No, it wouldn’t be . . appropriate.” she answered.

“Are you heading back to Casterly Rock, My Lord?”

“Yes, me and the w-Lady are hoping to make it in a week’s time.” He sounded bored and Brienne misliked the obvious confusion on the Lords face as he was trying to figure out their relationship. In Renly’s protection or in remote parts of the wood she could forget that on the outside their camaraderie made no sense. “Well of course there’s supposed to be a feast soon in the celebration of spring awakening.” Lord Florent said excitedly. “The Maesters say spring is coming soon, great news for all of us, it means we can plan for harvest and truly reap our rewards.” He smiled at Ser Jaime. 

“To get what we deserve.” Lady Elaena stared at her congealing plate, took a deep breath and continued eating.

Septa Isla, true to her word insisted she was much better and looked it to Brienne's relief as she felt their strange routines might be impacting her health and the kind, old lady was too nice to say anything about it. The next day they prepared to set off again. As Brienne brushed her horse she felt eyes upon herself. Brienne turned to see Lady Elaena stood behind her.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt My Lady.” She was up very early Brienne noted as they had gotten up to specifically avoid another as Jaime put it “gods awful meal.” Lady Elaena was dressed lightly wrapped in a plain shawl.

“You’re not interrupting.” Brienne said truthfully. “How did you sleep?” she asked awkwardly. She wished Jaime was here, he could deal with these conversation.

“I slept well enough and you?” Lady Elaena asked politely.

“I slept well.” Brienne replied feeling awkward.

“Last night your companion spoke of your mission a little. The Lady Allyria is my aunt and I wished to thank you personally.” She had already praised them last night but Brienne smiled at her in acknowledgement.

“My poor aunt. Did she seem well?”

“Yes, I mean she was trapped for a few weeks but she and her Lord husband got on very well.” Brienne assured her.

“They are married?” Lady Elaena asked.

“Yes, my Lady.”

“And they are happy?” Brienne paused and Lady Elaena flushed a rosy pink. “ They seemed very happy. They’re wedding was lovely ad I know Lady Allyria appreciated your gift.” Brienne said diplomatically. Jaime had told her of the necklace’s origin.

“Yes, well she seemed to like it and . . I’m not fond of jewellery.” There was an awkward silence. Brienne had a feeling there was something she wanted to ask but she said nothing. “I saw you sparring this morning, you are a fine warrior.” Brienne blushed. “A fine protector.” The Lady continued, her voice going a little higher as if she was asking a question which Brienne supposed she was. Brienne didn’t know what to say. Was it a secret? The Lady stepped back though, somehow gaining a satisfactory answer from her silence, perhaps Brienne thought she needed to learn to guard her features better?

Lady Elaena picked at her shawl. "Just, if I may say, be careful. That. . place, and well from someone who knows, it is dangerous and without mercy." She was a lovely sight, the sunlight bouncing off her silky hair but the words made Brienne feel cold. "Well it turned my mother mad, didn't it?" The words were bitter but strangely the tone was almost jovial as if an attempt at humour. The Lady put her hand to her throat to touch the pendant that was no longer there. "Sorry, I will leave you to your duties. Have a safe journey. I hope it leads you to where you want to go." She wanted to say something else Brienne was sure but she left, her shawl trailing behind her instead.

"What were you and Lady Elaena speaking of?" Jaime asked curiously as they rode off.

"We spoke of her Aunt's rescue." Brienne replied. They rode through the Westerlands, through fields of food and grass. On the last night, they left their rolls around the campfire and left to spar. The Septa lay sleeping, her face gentle even in sleep. They went further into the woods so not to disturb her but not too far in case she was in trouble. They sparred until they were red and sweaty, the night time breeze cool against their skin as they walked back to camp.

They both stiffened at the distant sound of trampling and singing. On investigation it was just a couple of drunks stumbling around, singing at the top of their voices. They could still hear the slurred voices, as they sang completely tone deaf a rendition of a song known by many names.

"Alys loved this song, "Lady Lyanna." she said it was so romantic." Brienne said sadly.

_Alys had told her all about it as they washed at the stream. “It’s such a beautiful song, if only a man would love me that much. As the King loved his Queen. Tad gave me a flower once but only so I would kiss him.” She had said mournfully, scrubbing the dirt from her milky skin roughly._

_“You’ll hurt yourself.” Brienne had chided and helped smooth her irritated skin. Bruises had blemished her freckly skin in places that Brienne winced to think about._

Jaime didn't respond, he looked angry and resentful. The mixture of the high of their fight and the sharp bitterness of the memory made her speak her mind. “You don't though, you don't like the King and Queen. When we toasted every night on the quest for good fortune, you never said the word King, you mouthed it and when you say Queen I don't think you mean the Lady Lyanna." she said bravely. It was something she had noticed by accident but once she had started she couldn’t stop noticing all the little hints. The little jabs at the King and his love of harps and the way he spoke of the royal couple and of Queen Elia. His beloved friend. _Was she even mentioned in the song?_

"Well I'm annoyed at my exclusion or well my mention depending on which version." he said.

"What do you mean?" she asked as they arrived back at camp, Isla still fast asleep.

"I mean their epic love story ballad. Their love started a war but it didn't finish it, I did. But I'm usually not mentioned, nor are the thousands that died."

_Oh how her grey eyes would gleam,_

_The most beautiful creature the silver prince had ever seen._

"I'm part of their song or whatever and well, I'm the villain so no I don't drink to their health. No-one really likes that song anyway. Only the sappy romantics or drunken fools."

_A man of great destiny and power,_

_Their loved bloomed like an eternal flower._

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply that Alys was stupid, it's just, well I'm biased against them. If they hadn't of run off together things would be different. I would be different and the Lady Elia was my friend. She was hurt deeply by it. You'll meet them and see. They are like something out of a song. I suppose I can't blame them, their precious love was tainted by the unfortunate fact that I had stabbed his father in the back or that's how the story goes." Brienne had grown up thinking the love out of songs was aspirational even if she knew she could never experience it.

She took a deep breath. "Did you?"

"No, I slit his throat." he said simply.

"Why?" She looked at him intently. There was no Davos to interrupt them now.

"He was going to burn down the city or start a fire anyway, I wasn't quite sure as he had a tendency to babble but he made one thing clear, the inferno would cleanse the world. Show Rhaegar who was still King, show the world his true form, the dragon. His enemies would tremble blah blah blah. My father would tremble more like who was of course hoping to take advantage of the situation as usual. He gave the order so I killed the snivelling pyromancer and caught up with him when he tried to make a run for it." Brienne stared at him. "I know I'm pretty to look at wench but in conversations you really have to say/"

"I'm so sorry Jaime, why didn't you tell someone." she put her hand on his and squeezed it to show solidarity. "And don't call me wench." she added.

He smiled at her. "I couldn't. It would weaken the Targaryen dynasty and Rhaeger had ever so kindly let me live. He didn't want people knowing his father was a monster." They sat in companionable silence for a while.

"You know something? I'm really glad I asked you to dance." he said as they watching the dying fire.

"Me too." She said flushing, looking at the dancing colours. The world was not what she expected.

As they got closer to the Rock Brienne felt her nerves swirl in her stomach. It was huge. She had heard tales of its grandeur but it was different seeing it in person. It was strange to think that Jaime was the master of all this. In the time of their acquaintance he had always been the Kingslayer or Ser Jaime. She knew abstractedly his proper title was Lord Lannister but he didn’t act like a Lord Paramount. It was strange to think of him that way. Then again the only other one she had met was Lord Robert who had never been unkind to her face apart from a few jokes she knew he hadn’t meant to cut her. He had spent most of his time drunk and red-faced. She was better prepared for this visit though than when she went to Stormsend. He had told her about the castle and his little brother who had read libraries worth of books.

The great, golden gilded doors opened at their arrival. They stabled their horses in the spacious stables filled with bales of hay and snorting horses. “Aunt Genna’s here?” Jaime asked Tyrion confusedly after embracing him on the steps. Brienne had overheard some of Lady Cersei’s venomous comments about her brother when Lord Tyrion was mentioned which wasn’t often. He was a dwarf with mismatched eyes, dressed in a fine tunic and golden medallion. Brienne was touched by the display of brotherly affection but was distracted by the intimidating hallway. The floor shone with varnish, the mahogany furniture offset the crimson and golden furnishing. Servants lined the hall looking at her in a mixture of seriousness and curiosity. Was this what it was always like? “Well, I thought the Lady would appreciate some female company.” Tyrion replied, “Aren’t you going to introduce me?” He was looking at Brienne very intently who hunched under the force of all eyes on her.

“This is Brienne, the Maid of Tarth.” He gestured grandly, his voice echoing in the cavernous hall. Brienne shot him a murderous glare and bowed. “Brienne, this is my brother the imp.” Tyrion shot him an equally murderous glare and said, 

“My Lady, I’m honoured to welcome you to Casterly Rock, the humble home of our ancestors.” _Humble?_ Brienne had never been so out of her depth. A woman Brienne assumed from her golden hair and green eyes was Aunt Genna came bustling in. “Careful.” He whispered to her,” she’s a terrible gossip.” Brienne looked at him in mute terror. He had not prepared for Aunt Genna. The woman in question fussed over her and tugged her nephew’s ear lovingly. “Not another letter, not one, we’ve been expecting you two for days, honestly Jaime what did that father of yours teach you? Well you should both change in time for the feast.” She sniffed disapprovingly at their mud-stained breeches and torn shirts. Brienne felt absurdly guilty for delaying them with their silly adventures.

“Feast?” Jaime asked, his eyebrow raised.

“Dinner,” amended Tyrion,” Just us, we’ve ordered a few special things that’s all.” He made a hand gesture and summoned a pretty, young girl with sandy curls. “Rosamund will show you to your chambers, My Lady.”

“Make sure you put her in one of the sea-facing ones.” Jaime ordered casually.

Rosamund led her through a labyrinth of hallways and chambers decorated with rich tapestries and grand portraits. Rosamund led her to a spacious chamber with two balconies overlooking the dramatic sea landscape and the craggy cliffs. The salty air swirled in from the open doors, fluttering the drapes and the woven tapestries hung on the wall. The bed was large with soft plush bedding. It was the nicest room she had ever seen never mind stayed in. “Are you sure this is mine?”

“Oh yes, Lord Tyrion instructed that a few options to be prepared but this is the one with the best sea view. Is it not to your liking My Lady?” Her blue green eyes were wide with panic as if Brienne would strike her.

“No, no, it’s wonderful, you’ve done a lovely job.” Brienne quickly reassured her. She blushed prettily, not at all like Brienne’s ugly blotches. Rosamund waited expectantly. Septa Roelle had always said staff should know their place and it was the duty of the highborn to keep them in place with a firm hand. A Lady especially needed to control her household for her husband. “ _A Ladies duty is to keep a tidy house.”_ The mantra echoed in her mind but little Rosamund looked so sweet and it wasn’t as if she was Lady of the Rock.

“I love those.” Brienne said randomly pointing at some flowers, unused to giving orders, " Would you pick me some more?” They were small white blooms she didn’t recognise, wrapped in red ribbons.

“Oh they’re my favour- I mean of course My Lady. Is there anything else?” Brienne shook her head and the girl hurried off. Her girlish giggle reminded her painfully of Alys.

The feast was delicious but far too grand to what she was used too. Brienne looked to Jaime for help but he just shrugged, she thought she could sense some amusement in that shrug. The next day Aunt Genna announced her departure. Her sons needed rescuing from her idiot stoat of her husband she explained apologetically making Brienne blush. Aunt Genna was very blunt but she had been very nice to Brienne under all the interrogating. Just before she departed, she pulled Jaime’s ear, making Brienne smile. Jaime and Tyrion might be rich and powerful but Aunt Genna still treated them like mischievous little boys. She whispered something to Jaime and gave him a significant look. With one last knowing smile at Brienne who had no idea what she had said and a wave she was gone.

They spent the next moon mostly training. They trained with others to add variety but they still preferred to train together. It had gone past the point where it was just about skill. Brienne had found the best sparring partner she would ever have she was sure. It made her treasure their sessions even more. Tyrion graciously gave her tours around the huge rock. He didn’t seem to mind that conversation wasn’t one of her strengths as he spoke enough for not just two people but probably several. He was as witty as Jaime promised, making a few quips to induce laughter. He also went into great detail about the building and his ancestry. Jaime also tagged along for most of it but he decidedly found it less interesting often interrupting with little stories. Some of it made her smile but she tried not to as it was very impolite. Tyrion didn’t seem to mind as he almost insisted that Jaime should join them. She could tell how much the Rock meant to Tyrion. He knew it and its history off by heart and repeated it almost lovingly while Jamie fidgeted and Brienne nodded, trying to follow his intricate lectures. The most interesting part of the castle was the armoury and even Jaime got involved excitedly. “This is where Brightroar was.” He pointed to the old brass brace, still shiny but empty. Brienne could only imagine the magnificent sword that had been there once, hundreds of years ago. “Have you ever fought with Valyrian steel?” he asked her.

“No.” Brienne replied wistfully. “To fight with such steel would be an honour.”

“Yes, that is the chosen weapon of the warrior.” Jaime said. Brienne shook her head.

“You can use almost anything in defence especially in a just cause as long as you respect the honour of the fight.” Valyrian steel was special but you didn’t need it to do great deeds. They argued cheerfully and to her embarrassment she didn’t notice Tyrion had slipped away for a long time.

One day Tyrion came to her. “Have you another recommendation?” she smiled at him. He had been lending her interesting readings. Some were a little intellectual for her taste but others were delightful and interesting. The one she had currently was quite precious to him she could tell. She had used a Valyrian book to translate the dedication in it and had a suspicion who had given it to him.

“Jaime wants to go to the cliffside today. It’s one of his favourite spots and I think he plans to take you with him.” He said a little randomly.

“Ok.” She had been on quite a few days out with Jaime already.

“He likes to go swimming there.” It took a second for her to register what he was trying to say. It was strange to see him look uncomfortable, he was always so confident. His tone was very careful.

“If you don’t want to go,” he paused significantly,” I could say we were planning on visiting the Stone Farm today.” He had researched her. He knew what had happened to her brother. He was giving her another option to not have to do it without telling Jaime. She blushed and he looked embarrassed. She hadn’t thought her brother in a while she thought guiltily. She also hadn’t been swimming in a long time. This would be the first time without her Father’s hovering making her feel on edge. Tyrion looked at her kindly and expectantly. She shouldn’t be so surprised he had gathered information on her family, she was a stranger in his home so she swallowed the flare of anger and defiance at being caught off guard. “I’m ok, thanks Tyrion. I would like to see the cliffs.” Tyrion nodded and left.

As Tyrion predicted Jaime took her to the cliffs edge. The sea wind whipped through their hair and they could taste the salt spray. Jaime struck out his arms, embracing the cloudy blue sky. “I love the sea.” he told her. She stifled a laugh. He was always so dramatic. Just throwing himself into everything with an almost childlike joy she envied. Watching him there with his arms flung open made her feel warm and happy. “What?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she shook her head and turned away covering her mouth with her hand.

“What?” he asked her again.

“Nothing, it’s nothing. . I’m just smiling.” Jaime clutched his heart dramatically and fainted. She ran over to him.

“By the Seven Jaime are you alright?” she grabbed him and shook him gently but then immediately dropped him when she realised he was fine and grinning at her distress.

“Sorry, ow, did you have to drop me so suddenly? It was the shock, you, the dour wench smiling! For no reason.” He rubbed his shoulder.

She glared at him. “It’s called being happy, aren’t you happy and my name is Brienne.” She felt embarrassed.

“I’m sorry, you should smile as much as you wish.” He held out his hand in a conciliatory manner and looked very apologetic. She frowned at him unforgiving.

“Hey you know what will be fun?” he asked, clearly hoping to distract her.

“This better not be one of your stupid jokes.” She warned him.

“Let’s jump off.” He burst in excitedly,” I used to do it with Addam when we were children. Oh come on it will be fun.”

Brienne sighed. “Tyrion said you might suggest this.”

“Oh come on, the rush, it’s fantastic, well you must know, surely there are cliffs on Tarth?” Brienne looked at the sea. She could do this. “Ok. Let’s do it, wait- what are you doing?” She turned away abruptly when he began unlacing his shirt. That was completely inappropriate. She thought of Davos and his apologetic looks as if he was always interrupting them when there was nothing untoward going on. She was still a noble maiden, she would probably live and die as one and he was a Lord. Her Father’s face would go very red at this. “What you want to jump in all our clothes?” She could almost picture him rolling his eyes, as if she was being ridiculous. “Fine come on.” He laced his shirt up again to her relief. Brienne faltered beside him once they reached the edge. She stared at the shiny blue-green mass beneath them and swallowed.

“Together?” he asked holding out his hand, smiling at her encouragingly. She nodded and took it.

They jumped.

The rush of air was nothing like she had ever experienced. It was a much higher drop than she had ever done. His hand was ripped from hers in the tumult as they crashed into the surface and she felt the loss as she tumbled in the depths. She surfaced and felt the water stream from her face and blinked up into the sun. She felt so free. “Well?” she heard him ask as she watched the water trickle through her fingers. Brienne could dimly hear a boys voice yelling in delight, telling her to come in deeper. “Its. . . wonderful, I haven’t been in so long.” She answered.

“You haven’t? An island girl like you?” he teased. She splashed him which led to a splash fight which led to a race where she thrashed him. “I can’t believe you’re faster than me.” He complained sulkily. Such a child she giggled to herself.

“I do have youth on my side.” She conceded and laughed at his outraged expression.

“I’m not that much older than you.” He protested splashing her.

They swam out a small, soft sandy cove with small rockpools filled with shiny stones and small wildlife. They lay on the sand looking at the deepening sky. From here the view was beautiful, nicer than even the stained glass windows. “What’s Tarth like?” he asked because of course the silence couldn’t last. This moment of beauty. She groaned and rolled over to face him. “You can’t help it can you? You have this strange compulsion to talk don’t you?”

“Well, I’ve ruined the so-called silence so you might as well answer.” He rolled over onto his side too. It was strange being so close like this.

“Tarth. . . it’s well it is what it is. I grew up knowing nothing else.” Her Father had gone on a few trips including once to Kings Landing but he had never taken her.

“Yes, but you’ve been to some places now, what’s it like?” he pestered.

“Well, Evenfall Hall is considered lovely. It’s not. . well like here but it’s quite spacious. Many Lord and ladies have complimented our antique furniture.”

“What’s your favourite thing about it, the Hall?” he tried again. Why did he want to know so much about Tarth? About her? She hesitated.

“There are some windows, they match the little Sept there, they’re multi-coloured stain glassed ones and well they’re beautiful. They tell a story. Like the one in the woods where Lord Dondarrion and Lady Allyria married.”

“There were no stain glass windows there.” Jaime noted a little confused.

“Oh, the windows had been broken and yes but you could imagine it couldn’t you, that little Sept in the woods. . .” she trailed off embarrassed and a little sad. She rolled back onto her back. “Tarth is very small, there is a lot of fishing villages and mountains, with clear blue waters. That is what Tarth is known for, the blue of its waters. The water is crystal clear in some places, you can see everything. I used to go and look in them, trying to spot different kinds of fish.”

“Did you swim in it a lot?” Jaime asked fascinated.

“No, my father didn’t allow it.” She said abruptly and started to shift away from him but stopped. Jaime had trusted her with his darkest secret hadn’t he? He had shown her his trust in her? Didn’t he deserve the same? “That’s not true, he didn’t forbid it but he always came with me and worried. . . It made me feel guilty. I. . . I couldn’t enjoy it.”

“Was he very protective?”

“No, my brother he drowned and my father was always nervous about the water afterwards. Or so a servant told me. ” She said it in a brisk way to undercut the painfulness. She waited but he said nothing just looked shocked and the moment dragged on awkwardly. She sat up feeling embarrassed. “Let’s get back, Tyrion will be waiting.”

That night they had a subdued dinner. Jaime seemed distracted but Brienne didn’t want to think about today so she listened to Tyrion instead talk about a new text. “Where did you get it from?” Brienne asked, suspecting the answer. “A friend.” Tyrion answered vaguely. “You see the theory that this could possibly support. . .” Later Tyrion retired to his room.

“Let’s dance.” Jaime suggested completely out of the blue.

She blinked at him. “I thought after today you would be too tired to spar.” She felt a little tired but perhaps it would be good?

“No, the other kind of dancing.” He said as if she should have guessed.

“There’s, there’s no music.” She stammered her face flushing.

“Oh.” Jaime replied. “I’m sorry about your brother and I’m sorry I didn’t say that earlier.” He sounded anxious.

She flushed again. “You don’t have to apologise, truthfully I cannot remember him.” There was a sad pause as she played with her hands. “What’s it like, having a sibling?” All she had was memories of memories.

“I don’t know any other way. Cersei and I, we came into this world together. I could no more explain it to you than you could explain being an only child.” He said his sister’s name very delicately.

“I remember my sisters a little.” She said sadly. “Why are you and Cersei fighting?” It was the boldest question she had asked yet. She wasn’t sure why she asked. Did she truly want to know? It was like picking at a scab she had told herself to ignore.

“She thinks I promised the Rock to her son.” He said, swallowing some wine.

“Did you?”

“I never explicitly named Tyrion as my heir I suppose but. . . well how can she expect that of me? To disinherit my brother? She always wants too much.” Brienne considered this thoughtfully. Lady Cersei had looked like the Ladies from the stories but Brienne knew under that beauty was layers of cruelty and unhappiness. Used to being overlooked once she had managed to blend into the walls like she liked to do despite her size she had witnessed the Baratheon’s unhappy marriage and the toll that it had taken on them both. "She's got it into her head just because I said Tommen looked like father, I mean come on.”

“We cling to certain ideas sometimes and find evidence that isn’t really there.” Brienne said softly, “Our hearts play tricks on us and read into things. We assume we are right because how can we not be? We cannot see into others heads.” She had read into things with Renly, that he cared about her more than he actually did.

“Are you missing Renly?” he asked, like he could read her mind.

“A little,” she admitted, “Do you miss anyone from the capital like the Kingsguard?” She said to change the subject. Renly and Cersei cast a shadow on the earlier happiness she had felt.

“No. I wasn’t ever really one of them. I miss others though. Some of the staff, the Queen of course even Lady Ashara though we were never close. It’s hard you see to build friendships there.” Brienne felt the fear she had felt before she had first gone to Stormsend but there would be no Renly to shield her. The Lannister brothers in their own way had tried to explain the dangerous games of court. Politics held little interest for her and some of the things they had explained to her made her realise how naïve that was. She was going to live in King Landing so she had to at least comprehend how these people operated. Her Father believed in honesty and transparency but the Red Keep wasn’t Tarth. “I met the Lady Elia there,” he reassured her “and she was my dearest friend.” His voice went soft as it always did when he spoke of her. “You will have Rhaenys, she will protect you as her mother did for me just as much as you will protect her.” Brienne looked uneasily at her hands.

Jaime got up and went to sit beside her. “What is it? What’s bothering you? Tell me Brienne.” She looked at him. “It’s about what you said in that dungeon.” Jaime looked at her blankly.” About how Renly would get bored of me eventually.” She clarified. It was something that had been bothering her for a long time.

“Princess Rhaneys . . well she has been surrounded by interesting people her whole life. Around proper ladies of the court and knights/”

“Stop. Don’t, you should ignore me like most of the time, I . . . .I’m sorry but, is this what you’ve been worrying about? Look, Renly he bored easily and it will be different this time.” It was easy for him to say that she thought. Kings Landing loomed, an enthralling but terrifying prospect.

“How do you know?” she asked, “You haven’t seen her in years.” _Why would a Princess want her as a companion?_

“Because you will be her protector. Trust me, her mother will have taught her the true value of you. Look, do you trust me? You might not. . .connect right away. Her mother and I didn’t.” She looked at him surprise. “It’s not that I didn’t like her but it took time. . . and our friendship was all the better for it I think. Just be yourself and it will happen. We didn’t get on remember at first? You have to trust me.”

She couldn’t help but smile. “Yes you were very irritating.” She nodded in agreement.

“I wouldn’t say irritating/” He broke off as Tyrion entered the room.

“Oh sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I was just wondering if I could have the book back that I leant you? Just for tonight, I wanted to check something.”

“Yes, of course. It’s in my chamber I’ll go get it.” Brienne said and left the room. Now used to the maze of corridors she went quickly to her room feeling very light and happy. She entered her room and smiled at the fresh bunch of white flowers Rosamund now left in her rooms daily. The girl was a budding flower arranger coming up with different arrangement every day. When she had come back from the trip all unhappy Rosamund must have noticed and bought her favourites. She still didn’t know their name but she would always associate them with the young girl’s kindness and sweetness. Brienne found the book and traced its intricate cover with her finger as she walked slowly back to the room. She had a feeling that Tyrion wanted to talk to his brother alone and the book though precious to him was an excuse.

When she returned she found Tyrion exiting the room looking very unhappy.

“Are you ok?”

“May I escort you back to your chambers?”

“Of course.” She assented. They walked in silence making Brienne worry her lip. Had something bad happened? When they arrived at her chamber she handed the book back to him.

“Did you like it?”

“Yes, it’s a beautiful gift.” She said without thinking.

His head snapped up and he eyed her shrewdly. “I never said it was a gift. I didn’t know you spoke High Valyrian. Anyway there is something I have to tell you. You should get some rest as on the morrow we ride out . . to Kings Landing.” Brienne recoiled in shock. It wasn’t as if she didn’t know this would happen but Jaime hadn’t mentioned it would happen so soon.

“Why tomorrow?”

“We are to go to the Spring Feast. I’m so sorry Brienne, I don’t quite know what happened .” His voice became background noise. _This was it. The start of her big adventure_.

“You don’t need to apologise. This is why I came here.” She smiled at him reassuringly.

“No don’t be nice. It makes it worse. I, I’m so sorry. I hoped you would stay.”

Brienne was confused but touched. “I always knew it was temporary but I have enjoyed it/”

“I know you have, you both have. Which is why you should stay forever if you have too.”

“I can’t stay here forever.” Brienne thought he was taking it quite badly. “I’m not Jaime’s ward or his. . .” she stopped herself flushing. Tyrion stared at her expectantly. “I’m not his wife.” She finished firmly.

“Of course.” Tyrion replied looking oddly disappointed. “Sleep well. I’ll send Rosamund to pack your things.”

Brienne found it difficult to fall asleep that night, despite having grown used to the soft sheets of her bed. Finally she drifted off and dreamed she was in the sea again but back at Tarth where the waters were so blue they couldn't be put into words. A boy was splashing about having fun nearby. He was laughing but Brienne's heart clenched anyway at the sight. Galladon. The thought echoed dimly in her mind. She began to swim towards him but she was slow, dragged down by a long, padded dress she recognised as one of many Septa Roelle's doomed attempts to make her look feminine. Finally as her muscles began to burn with effort she reached the boy but when she turned him around he had no face. She shrieked and recoiled backwards, her head going underwater. The faceless boy seemed to be looking straight at her. "Galladon?" but everything in her body screamed no. The boy just continued bobbing there, like an inanimate object. Fear and shame coursed through her and the dress seemed to weigh her down more than ever. It was going to pull her down, her mind panicked. _Down. Down. Down._ Into the depths of Tarth's beautiful waters. She would die like Galladon, the Sapphire waters filling her lungs and burning her throat. She looked for her Father, he was always here when she went swimming, he could save her. But he wasn't there. Jaime was her next thought, she had swam with him just today. Jaime wouldn't leave her. He was here. Somewhere. The waves took her dragging the boy downwards into the watery depths. Blurry figures appeared as she drifted down. Renly was there, laughing with Ser Loras where he had always seemed happiest. Tyrion was there reading his book, his brow furrowed. Ser Davos and Ser Dale walked together discussing baby names. Lady Cersei was there too, but Brienne could not see her twin. Where is he? Ronnet Connington appeared and unlike the others he saw her. He gave her one mocking glance, so easy to see in the clear waters of Tarth and threw all he wanted to offer her. _The rose._ It swirled before her, bright red and bleeding crimson petals. She flinched from it. A figure appeared next to her, floating in the water. A woman she had never seen before. Her dark hair billowed in the waters and she reached out and took the offending rose. Brienne looked at her confused, she felt in some strange way she should know this woman. “Who are you?” she thought wordlessly. The woman’s dark eyes seemed to be trying to tell her something but Brienne couldn't fathom it. She swirled around in the crystal waters looking and looking, finding nothing but empty stretches of Sapphire Seas.


	5. Journey To The Unknown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne goes to the Red Keep. . .

The journey was intense. They kept up a punishing pace to arrive in time for the so-called Spring Feast. It was she had heard supposed to be the event of the year. Rosamund had mentioned it wistfully a few days ago, her girlish chatter of balls and ladies and lords had amused Brienne at the time but only because for not a single second had she expected to be there. Jaime was quite famously reclusive and she knew everyone expected him as usual to not show up. Tyrion rode in the carriage and she and sometimes Jaime joined him but they also rode on their horses too, he seemed anxious almost brimming with energy. In the carriage he drummed his fingers on his legs, on his horse he pushed it to gallop faster and faster. Whenever Jaime had spoken of the Red Keep it was apart from the Queen and the children with mocking amusement that smothered the bitter hatred underneath. However right now it was like he couldn't wait to get there. The days she enjoyed as much as she could but the nights were another matter. The dreams plunged her into another world where she didn't have the Lannister brother's companionship or proper armour it seemed or even a sword . . . .just a rose. _A single, useless rose._ The whimpers of a young child with a mop of curly hair and violet eyes rang in her ears but Brienne was powerless to protect her. . .

They finally arrived, in the late evening, a few hours late to the festivities. Brienne pushed down her nerves. She had enjoyed the dwindling time she had left with both of the Lannister brothers. She and Tyrion discussed safe topics and her and Jaime sparred and hunted together. They had continued to prepare a little but Brienne knew that even with all their teachings would guarantee no success. The King could laugh her off, even dismiss her angrily if he wanted too she thought anxiously. The court could turn its back on her like Stormsend. She might become the walking freak again but now to a much bigger audience. And Lady Rhaenys, a Princess of the Realm, perhaps she didn't want some lumbering giant of a protector? Perhaps she had dreamed of a white knight, as a girl, not one who had turned their back on her but one for herself, a champion she could be proud to stand next too? Or she could have grown into a cruel woman? Brienne hated to think like that but it was possible that she would laugh in her face at Brienne's unattainable dreams. Or she would pity her so much she would smile and bear Brienne's presence and everyone would whisper what a kind soul she was. It didn't matter though. _This was it. What she had chosen_. Inside was the Princess she had been both terrified and excited to meet. A Princess who needed her. Brienne got out of the carriage and took a deep breath looking at the towering Red Keep. Jaime stayed in the carriage to talk with Tyrion and didn’t look happy when he emerged but smiled at her reassuringly.

She followed Jaime to the Great Hall who of course knew the way. Brienne imagined the young fifteen year old eager for glory in this epitome of Royal rule. The few courtiers and servants they saw stared at them, Jaime and Tyrion clearly recognisable from their appearance and clothing. They also stared at Brienne which was very uncomfortable, it would take time for her to blend in. 

The Great Hall doors were open and inside the feast was in full swing. Hours late, piles of delicious food was still arranged on tables lining the side but the focus had moved onto the dancing. Couples spun around the floor to a merry tune whilst people milled around the edges gossiping, bragging and laughing. It was the most chaotic and magnificent event she had ever attended. The songs of Old Sam come to life. Lords and Ladies dripping in jewels and finery turned to look at them. She pushed down her panic. I trust Jaime she repeated to herself. Jaime began to walk to the dais, sidestepping people impatiently. The Royal family sat at the table, drinking and laughing. The King was just as her Father had described to her: a tall man with the look of Old Valyria and hands capable of fighting but used more for making music. She had heard somewhere he had given the harp up though she couldn't remember where and hadn't liked to ask Jaime about it. Next to him, listening to his whispers his wife sat Queen Lyanna who was very pretty, her youthful face flushed with happiness. A young man with silvery hair who Brienne assumed was the Crown Prince Aegon was telling some sort of story or joke to his laughing companion. The latter, a young man looked very like the Queen so Brienne deduced this was Prince Jon, the King and Queen’s only child. They kept walking until they were right in front of it. Brienne couldn’t see the Princess anywhere. Not the one she hoped to meet or the King’s beloved sister. The King and Queen straightened, their faces settling into a much unhappier expression.

“Your Grace. I’m sorry I’m late. May I present my brother Tyrion of House Lannister and Brienne, the Maid of Tarth.” Jaime said and she glared at him even though he wasn’t looking at her.

“Welcome My Lord. We had not known if you were to come today but our hearts are gladdened to see you.” That was a very polite welcome Brienne thought, hopeful. Jaime smiled but it wasn’t a true one.

“Excuse me but may I ask after your companion, is she your wife or your brother’s wife perhaps?” the Queen asked sounding confused.

“She is a gift.”

“Who’s it for?” A well dressed man who Brienne recognised as Lord Connington from his surcoat and Jaime’s description. She knew he wasn’t a fan of the King’s closest friend. He wasn’t good at hiding disdain.

“Hmmm?” Jaime answered. Lord Jon glared at him. So the disdain went both ways, which was a bad sign. Lord Jon had the same colouring as Ronnet but he looked much more serious, even severe. Brienne prayed Jaime wouldn't make some sarcastic remark.

“I said who is the gift for?” Brienne didn’t like being referred to as a gift.

“The King’s daughter.” Jaime said honestly.

“Princess Rhaenys?”

“Well the King only has the one daughter, doesn’t he?” Brienne knew he hadn’t planned to say that. He had said it without thinking but now it was out there poisoning the atmosphere with its implications. She saw the King’s face shadow with anger and his wife looked both furious and sad. This was a disaster. She should say something but her tongue felt like a brick in her mouth. This was the moment, in this tense silence where their fates lay on knife edge. This was the stain glass window where the hero made a bold move that changed the path of the story but she couldn’t move. Suddenly the gaze’s were ripped from the three of them and focused to the back of room. Brienne turned around to see what distraction was their saviour.

A young woman was walking towards them.

One glance at Jaime confirmed who it was.

The Princess of the Seven Kingdoms.


	6. The Endless Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne meets the Princess but the night takes an unexpected direction . . .  
> My notes still aren't working so thanks for the comments and kudos!  
> Sorry for the weird breaks in this chapter, I knew the contents of it but putting it together was much more disjointed.

She was walking towards them.

Brienne had imagined what the Targaryen Princess looked like a lot. She had daydreamed and worried and fretted about their first meeting and what it would entail. What they would say. What they would do. The girl walking towards her was lovely to look at but Brienne had expected that. The Princess had dark hair that shone in the candlelight and olive skin, like the salty Dornish people Brienne had read about as a girl. Instead of the violet eyes she had imagined the Princess had dark eyes which were looking at Jaime with undisguised delight. She wore an exquisite dress of red, orange and yellow. Princesses’ in the tales were always beautiful and she more than lived up to her end. Brienne thought about what a ridiculous knight she made and felt even more inadequate.

_“What?” Jaime had asked her a few weeks ago while they sat by the fire. Tyrion had gone to bed, he seemed too often to retire early. Brienne had been thinking of her Father’s latest letter. “Is something wrong?” he asked._

_“No.” She had said._

_“What do you want to talk about?” he had asked. She rolled her eyes, his need for incessant conversation sometimes puzzled her but she had learned it was best to give in. He would only become more irritating._

_“What was Queen Elia like?” she blurted out. It was something she had wanted to ask for a long time but she had never felt it was the right time. Queen Elia was an important figure but a mysterious one. All she knew of the woman was things she had heard in passing from her Father and the stories of Old Sam. And some of the things Jaime had said. The most she had been spoken of was in the context of the current King and Queen’s love story and she only appeared in the first verse of “Lady Lyanna.” He blinked at her and she felt a spark of pride of having surprised him. “Why are you . . .she was who she was. . . “ he trailed off looking a little lost into the flames._

_Brienne picked at the arm of the chair feeling oddly guilty. “I just wanted to know a bit more about her, that’s all.” Brienne said softly. The fire cast shifting colours of reds and oranges._

_“What kind of things?” he asked her._

_“Well what was she like?” Brienne floundered. Jaime looked at her expectantly. “What was she like? What did she like to do? What did she look like. . . .” she trailed off as he was looking at her strangely. He looked back into the hearth. The fireplace like the rest of Casterly Rock was magnificent but it didn’t warrant such attention._

_“She was small, well smallish I suppose . . .I mean compared to us obviously.” He swallowed. Brienne felt the grey shadow of disappointment but she felt like she couldn’t push it. He let out a deep breath. “I’m sorry I don’t really like thinking about . . it. She was very nice.” He winced at the word as if it was disappointing. “I hate that word but that’s. . . she was. . . kind and clever. She loved well she loved lots of things. . “ he trailed off lamely. “You’re disappointed.” He said simply. Brienne tried to smooth her expression. "You know you’re hardly the most eloquent of people.” She rolled her eyes. Jaime smirked. “Elia used to roll her eyes at me when I tried to be clever. Until I met you no one had ever rolled their eyes at me as much.”_

_“You tried to be clever a lot?” Brienne wondered if the Queen Elia had ever wanted to shove him._

_“Of course, as you said I can’t shut up and well, unlike you I sometimes amused her. There wasn’t a lot of laughter back then, Aerys misliked it unless it was him making the japes and his japes . . well I could never bring myself to like them. But sometimes she would smile, she had a lovely smile. Or even rarer she would giggle, like a young girl just like her daughter. It felt like a victory you know? She told me we had to take it day by day. . that one day we would be free but the day was a lot brighter if we got to laugh a bit. Life. . . well sometimes it’s just easier to laugh at it isn’t it?”_

_Brienne opened her mouth but no words of agreement came out. Her Father had bought her up to take things seriously, to understand her duties and try to carry them out to the best of her ability. His face closed off. “Sorry, I’m, you don’t want to hear all this. It's just you had to meet her. . get to know her. She was quite private in a sense, like her husband. Rhaenys when she was a girl looked a lot like her and used to like copying her. Perhaps you'll have a better idea then. . ._

“You came.” The Princess whispered. “You actually came.” She was looking at him in wide eyed wonder. Jaime opened his mouth and for a second uncharacteristically looked lost for words. It would have been amusing if the situation wasn't so serious. Brienne guessed she resembled her Mother greatly. “This is Brienne of Tarth, the woman I wanted you to meet.” He stepped out the way to watch them greet. Brienne’s bowed awkwardly and felt herself flush but Princess Rhaenys very politely clasped her hands together in a picture of delight. “Thank you for coming Lady Tarth, I will be honoured to show you around the castle on the morrow.”

“I have found her, a true protector as per your mother’s last wish.” Jaime burst in. Brienne blushed deeper but Princess Rhaenys smiled at them both. She was radiant. She turned and walked up to her Father, still sat seemingly very far away on the chair of the King and said something that Brienne couldn’t hear but she quickly returned, rubbing her hand curiously and went to dance with Ser Jaime.

Watching them dance was nicer than any of the showy balls of Old Sam's songs. Brienne stood at the side, grateful that Tyrion had remained by her side. Some eyes still looked at her curiously but she let Tyrion distract her. All the waiting had led up to this moment or it had seemed to. What now? Was she supposed to go down on her knees here at this busy function of high society? Surely not. All she could do now is do what she had always done, try to blend in and observe. Many of the guests returned to dancing but none could match the pair near the centre, twirling around with charming finesse. It was a reunion of great emotional importance she was witnessing she knew but the other courtiers who didn't know looked on: some with swooning delight, some with frowning disapproval but all with burning curiosity. Brienne spotted Lady Elaena across the room, elegant in a blue dress with a dark blue sash who met her eyes briefly and then looked away. The King didn't stop looking.

When the dancing had died down, the Princess led them both to her Mother’s chambers discreetly as the guests cheered on some troupe of amusements. Brienne had never much liked spectacles like that, mummer shows often included freaks for the audience to point and laugh at. It made the sniggers at her own appearance seem tame.

The night went on.

The chambers were clean and spacious, still like how Jaime had described them when he had told her of his last visit to the dying Queen. Brienne’s own father had waited about two years before he had ordered her Mother’s room to be stripped and he had distributed her Mother’s things between them and her Mother’s aunt. This had not happened here. It was still full of belongings as if she the Queen walked among them still. A bed that couldn’t have been slept in for years, its sheets smoothed without wrinkles and freshly laundered scattered with cushions picked with embroidery. The curtains free from dust, the books kept in fine condition behind glass fronted cabinets. Ornaments, candlesticks and trinkets were all here, giving the chambers a personal touch. Arranged just right like a doll's house. It was a little discomfiting.

What they had come to see was hung on the wall. Tyrion had spoken of this while she lived at the Rock, from the rumours as he and his brother had not attended the funeral where it had first been revealed to the world. _The King’s last gift to his dead wife._ There weren’t an abundance of paintings at Tarth but Brienne had lived in Stormsend and Casterly Rock and visited noble houses so she had seen a lot of expensive art. The painting itself was lovely, depicting the late Queen looking over her shoulder smiling, through her waves of dark curls. She looked very like her daughter. Brienne watched the both of them look at it, lost in their own world of memory. It was very touching yet painfully sad. She thought of her own mother’s room, not a single image of her face graced the walls of Evenstar Hall. Not that any drawing could match it, whoever the artist was did a fine job Brienne felt. The colours sang out vividly on the canvas, swirling into a perfect crescendo of hues and shades to create something unique.

“It is perfection,” he told Princess Rhaenys quietly, “apart from the band of gold, it should be a crown.” Brienne stood away from the both to give them privacy.

“A crown of gold?” she asked at the same level of volume.

“Perhaps or perhaps winter roses.” He smiled at her and she smiled back. Brienne almost felt she was intruding and when she looked away she saw someone at the door, just a flicker and then they were gone but she thought it was the young Stark Prince and he didn’t look happy. The Princess saw him looking at her pendant, a match to the one that Lady Allyria had worn so proudly but gold with the etchings of House Martell upon it and handed it to him so he could look closer. Jaime was examining the familiar circle when a flustered page came in, saying they were needed for closing dances.

"It's not closing dances for ages yet? Who sent you?" she demanded.

"The Prince, My Lady." he replied, bowing.

Princess Rhaenys looked sadly at the portrait. "Egg doesn't like it." she said gesturing to it, "he says it makes him sad." To the page she asked," Did Aegon send you?"

"No, it was Prince Jon, My Lady." The Princess seemed surprised but she acquiesced. They walked back slowly to the Great Hall.

The night went on.

"Did you like the portrait?" Princess Rhaenys enquired of Brienne. "My Father got the finest artist to capture her."

"It was. . a work of art, I mean I know it's a work of art but I meant." Brienne stumbled over her own tongue. It was hard to put the painting into words, even Jaime had struggled and he never usually ran out of stuff to say. Jaime turned his head around and made a face at her. She blushed.

"Like those stained glass windows in Tarth right." He prompted, nodding encouragingly at her. She relaxed a little.

“Oh you must tell me of Tarth Lady Brienne.” The Princess said charmingly. She offered her arm as if Brienne was like any other lady. A Lady like her. Jaime dropped behind them but Brienne’s focus was swallowed by the strange tension she suddenly felt. She felt that strange choking sensation she had in social situations. She couldn’t hide behind her Father, or Renly or even Jaime. Her very own protectors couldn’t help her.

“It is called the Sapphire Isle, My Lady.” Brienne said, the common phrase popping into her head.

“Oh, why is that?” They were walking down a corridor, getting closer and closer back to the Great Hall.

“For the blue of its waters My Lady.” She answered robotically.

“Oh so it’s not after the Tarth’s then?” she asked. She smiled at Brienne’s puzzled expression and elaborated, “Your eyes, they are very blue. Surely bluer than any waters, has no one ever said that to you before?” Brienne shook her head, a little dazzled. Rhaenys tutted. “Honestly polite society nowadays.” She’s being nice Brienne told herself. There is no big joke hiding in the shadows ready to jump out and make her the punchline.

“You honour me, My Lady.” Brienne didn’t know what else to say. “But it is truly named for its waters. They are well known for their beauty. Sailors often admire them. Do. . you like sail My Lady?”

“I admit I don’t have much experience on ships so any stories you have I would greatly appreciate?” The Princess smiled at her. She seemed sincere Brienne thought. So Brienne started telling her about the time she and her father went sailing with Lord Velaryon through the stormy seas of the Stormlands. The Princess listened and asked a few questions. The time sped by and suddenly they were back at the Great Hall.

The bright lights of the Hall made Brienne blink a little after the much more muted lighting of the corridors. The troupe was still entertaining, but some of the crowds had grown bored and gone back to dancing to merry tunes. The Royal family still sat at the dais. The Princess picked herself through the room carefully, reminding Brienne of her Father when he led her up on a mountainous path once, cautiously choosing his steps for them both so they didn't take a wrong turn or topple to their deaths. She picked her route almost gingerly, nodding and smiling to the courtiers who turned to watch her walk. The Princess was wearing the colours of the sun Brienne thought which was apt as the lords and ladies turned to soak up her smiles and pleasantries as if they were rays of sunlight.

It was a few minutes before Brienne realised that Jaime was no longer behind them. Worry flooded her until she spotted him twirling around with his sister. Cersei looked as bewitching as always and Brienne was surprised she hadn’t noticed her immediately. Together they were unmissable. Once they were close together they looked even more alike, just green-eyed and blonde sharp beauty. _They matched_. It unsettled Brienne how unhappy that thought and the sight of them swaying together made her. There was no reason to be taken aback by her appearance, she was the Lady of Stormsend she had more right to be at the social event of the year than Brienne did. Yet it hadn’t occurred to her how her reappearance would make her feel this way.

“Are you okay, My Lady?” The Princess enquired.

“Yes, yes.” Brienne assured her and received a blinding smile in response. Brienne wondered if that was the smile Jaime had seen all those years ago trapped with her mother. She wasn’t sure what to do without the Lannister brothers but whenever she lingered behind to let Princess Rhaenys go ahead without her and be free from her company the young woman turned her head around and looked at her expectantly. As if she was asking her a question. Brienne’s answer was to follow.

The night went on.

It was a night that Brienne knew she would never forget. She pushed the thoughts of the Lannister twins to the back of her mind and tried to take it all in. Lords and Ladies streamed around her, talking, laughing and arguing. Music floated throughout the Hall. Brienne met so many people it was hard to remember them as more than a blur of faces. There was someone she had met before though. In the corner, almost as if she was trying to hide away stood Lady Elaena. "Lady Elaena, you look lovely." The Princess greeted her.

"Thankyou, not as lovely as you. My Lady." Came the polite answer. It was a common comment.

"Blue it suits you." The Princess replied, smiling widely. Brienne frowned, it was a fake one.

"It is the colour of my House, My Lady." Brienne had spent a lifetime hiding in conversational matters. When she was a girl in her shyness she had tried to hide behind her Septas skirts but then Roelle had came and she had grown too tall and big for that option. So she learnt with Roelle's help to try and stay as invisible as possible. It was her Septa's desperate and doomed intention Brienne knew to try and soften the impact of her unfortunate looks but it had more than one use she had discovered as she began to catch the meanings behind the words of the pretty courtesies. The Princess flinched a little, so small most would barely notice it as if she had registered some sort of insult but didn't want to show she was offended.

"I'm glad they suit you so well, My Lady." The Princess emphasised the last two words with almost a mocking lilt.

"Yes well your dress is just . . wonderful." Lady Elaena replied. Is this all they spoke of Brienne thought? Dresses? "It's so unlike your others and I guess it matches. . " her violet eyes flickered to the Princess' neck.

"Oh I, I lent it to Ser Jaime, I must get that back." It was the first time Brienne saw the Princess look a little awkward. She gestured to her friends neck.

"You're not wearing yours." The words were almost accusatory but the tone was light.

"I lent it to someone too, My Lady. My Aunt as a wedding gift."

"A gift is not usually temporary." The Princess pointed out. A shadow had crossed her face.

"No, I suppose not, My Lady. " Lady Elaena placed her hands on her stomach briefly then straightened again with a sunny smile. Pearls had been threaded through her silky hair. Brienne wondered if they counted as jewellery if they were in your hair. She smiled at Brienne. "It is good to see you again. I see your journey has bought you here. Have you told them all the stories of your bravery?"

The Princess blinked at Brienne as if she had forgotten she was here. "Oh you must tell us Brienne. Such heroism." The Princess smiled at her but it was dimmer. Brienne looked at them both a little uncertainly. She was rarely used as a distraction. Her eyes swivelled between them as all the words in her speaking vocabulary seemed to desert her. The Princess looked at her uncomfortably. Almost as if she had summoned in Tyrion swooped in and performed some true heroics she was not capable of. Within seconds the strange tension had eased and conversation began flowing like all the wine Tyrion had clearly enjoyed ingesting.

The night went on.

Finally, in the early hours the lords and ladies began to leave. left so too could he finally leave. Brienne noticed the Queen was a little unsteady and had to be helped by her son who seemed quite glum seeing as they had just hosted an exceptional feast. Brienne hadn't ever been to anything on this scale, she wondered if she would ever again and if she even wanted too? The atmosphere was like when she had first been allowed more than one cup of wine, exciting and thrilling but also a strange suppressed anxiety about the disintegration of her control and trying to ignore the slightly sour flavour that no one else seemed to mind as they gulped it down.

"Oh father a sworn shield, like Jonquil for Alysanne. Oh mother would be delighted. Truly Lord Lannister must stay for a while." The Princess stood before her Father. Brienne blushed at the comparison.

"Yes. . .oh yes." he said seeming quite distracted. Brienne supposed he must have a lot on his mind being King. Jenny's song began to play again. It's mournful notes had been repeated quite often throughout the night.

The King took his daughters hand with a dazed expression. "The smell . . oh yes. Lord Lannister you and your companions are welcome for as long as you wish. So are you a knight?" the last question was directed at Brienne. She flushed, not knowing whether to be insulted. He fully well must know that she could never be a knight no matter what her heart yearned for. Then again he had no idea about her silly hopes and desires, he was the King and he hadn't even said it in a malicious way. He was looking at his daughter while she grinned at Tyrion in delight. Brienne felt a burst of happiness at seeing their kinship. One thing that had struck about Tyrion was though he had the respect of others who were willing to look past him being a dwarf he had seemed rather lonely. Her and Jaime's company were the closest he appeared to have currently. There was also the small selfish voice inside her head that pointed out she hadn't bonded with the Princess nearly so easily.

Jaime answered, coming to her rescue. "She is a true one your grace." He smiled mockingly at the Kingsguard. "The first female knight in all of Westeros. First to smash that boundary. First to ride in a tourney and so on. Well she would have won today I assure you but we arrived to late but at least the queen of love and beauty still got her crown hey and the first female knight." Brienne felt the rosy shine of his praise but she knew from the Queen's face he had also used it as a way to insult her.

The night went on.

Eventually even Tyrion's witty conversation couldn't keep the Feast going as the drunks began to stagger off. The Princess wished them a goodnight and went to retire. It was only as she was leaving did she remember the Princess hadn't got back her pendant.

"Where's Jaime?" she asked Tyrion.

"Oh I think he's gone to bed." he replied looking into his wine.

"I just saw him a moment ago."

"Well he's going to bed then. Who cares? Why don't we play a game?"

"I need to ask him something and then I'm going to bed. I think you should too. "

"No, no. I don't want it to end."

"What?" she asked, he suddenly switched to mournful and serious.

"The night." he said eventually.

"In a way all things end. Like that story from that book you lent me. The one about the dragon." A thought flashed across her mind, someone hadn't been here in this hug sea of people. Someone he might have wanted to see.

"Are you disappointed with how the night's gone?"

He looked at her a little suspiciously. "It has gone more or less how I expected it. Goodnight Brienne. Sweet Dreams."

"Sweet Dreams Tyrion."

Brienne hurried to catch up and finally spotted him. She wanted to make sure the necklace was safe, she knew Jaime would never intentionally cause it damage but the possibility of loosing something so precious made Brienne sad. Brienne also wanted to speak with him, it had been hours since they were alone. She called his name softly. He turned around. “Jaime, I’m sorry, are you going to sleep? It’s just that. .” she trailed off. She looked past him and saw a familiar figure up ahead. _Cersei_. She felt something painful constrict in her chest. She looked at him and just knew what she had not been able to voice even in her own mind. She dropped her eyes.

“Just what?” he snapped. She took a step back.

“The necklace, erm. . . you still have it? I was going to give it to the Princess.” She couldn’t look him in the eye. He passed the pendant to her without saying anything.

“Have a good evening.” She mumbled politely and immediately blushed deeper hating herself. Why did she say that?

“You too.” he said uncomfortably not looking at her and walked off, leaving her alone. She hated how she felt standing there alone in that corridor. Deep down she had known there was something between them. She had. What would her Father say about her moral compass now? Her closest friend was currently having relations with his own sister. Was it this place? The way Jaime had spoken of it, as if it was some kind of cesspool, was he right? Did it bring out the worst in everyone? But that couldn’t be true, she had seen them interact before but had brushed it into a small corner in her mind the closer they had become. That was the crueller cut: that she had become this person who ignored the obvious to live in some kind of fantasy. _What was honourable about that_? Part of her was jealous and she knew why. She had done it again. Fallen for someone unattainable. Someone who had shown her great kindness. What was wrong with her?

Brienne wouldn't stand here and mope though. She couldn't. The pendant burned in her hand with purpose. Brienne began to walk in the direction of the Princess' chambers which the Princess had gestured vaguely in direction of. The Keep was like a maze though so she stopped a rather tired looking page who graciously offered to do her errand for her. She refused him, it wouldn't do if she lost something so precious. Brienne didn't know what she would do after but she just wanted to get this necklace returned safely as she knew how important it was. She would just drop it off and then go to bed. She was too drained to do much else.

The night went on.

The castle was strangely deserted as if all the guests had turned back into objects after midnight like from one of the stories from her childhood. She could still hear from behind closed doors though, music and laughter as the party of the rich and powerful continued into the night.

She arrived at the chamber and realised how impolite this was, just turning up with no invitation. The two guards posted at the door eyed her suspiciously. She asked them to knock and the Princess appeared, still dressed at her door.

“My Lady I have bought you your pendant.” Brienne flushed awkwardly. Now she was here she felt she was crossing a line. Princess Rhaenys blinked at her with shiny eyes but a smile broke over her face.

“Oh, thank you. Tyrion started telling me some story and you know what it’ like, I turned around and Jaime was gone. I was going to go to his chamber tomorrow.” He won’t be there Brienne thought. She handed the Princess the necklace feeling very unhappy.

“I will leave you to rest My Lady/”

“No, no please come in.” The Princess beckoned her into her chambers and Brienne followed her inside, shutting the door and watched her cross the room to her vanity table. Brienne watched her reflection from the three mirrors propped up on the table and it showed her picking up a small box and gently placing the necklace inside. She turned around and leaned against the table.

“So would you like the tour?” The Princess asked a little breathlessly. “Oh you probably want to sleep.” She shook her head seemingly at her own stupidity. “Perhaps tomorrow? I know Lord Tyrion is excited to see the Keep as well.”

Brienne was aware this was the first time they had been alone. “Of course.”

She smiled at her. “Though we won’t be able to get a word in.”

Brienne smiled politely back and bowed. She turned to leave. “Why did you come here?” The question made Brienne pause and turned back around.

“Ser Jaime, I thought he wrote/”

“No, no, no. Why did _you_ come here?” Her voice was a little husky but her intense stare pinned Brienne in place. “I just, I want to know why you came? I mean I hope you don’t mind but I asked about you. We’ve never met before, you’ve never met my Mother . . . I just. . . Ser Jaime he suggested . . .” The Princess trailed off, looking at Brienne almost uncertainly. She looked a lot younger than she had all night. She reminded her of Alys.

Brienne thought about all the things that had led her here: her father, Tarth, Ser Jaime’s expression when he spoke of the past, her dead siblings, Goodwin’s teachings, Ronnet’s rose, Alys hunched over in her sleep, Wagastaff’s wounded pride, the stories of knights, the promise Ser Jaime had made, the dreams.

All of it.

Nothing came out of her mouth. The Princess schooled her features well but Brienne saw the disappointment flicker across her face as the silence stretched on. Brienne heard the echoes of footsteps walking along the corridor. The Princess frowned, “ Oh, that might be Egg or. .” The door opened. “Egg, not right now. . .”

It was the King.


End file.
